The Railway Series: Archive Collection
by TheMidlandEngine
Summary: These are the stories of what happened on Sodor between 1914, to 1959. Engines that came to Sodor thinking that they'll never fit in, some knowing it is there home. These stories will be all about the North Western engines and the rest of the Sudrian engines coming along as well. Welcome to The Railway Series: Archive Collection NOTE: CONTAINS BAD LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE AND BODY HORROR
1. Ep1: The Adventure Begins

Mankind, the most intelligent species in the world. They have big, massive emotions, even the youngest of their sons and daughters can tell what happiness and sadness is like. But there are other species that share this world too. There are dogs, cats and many other living being which are called animals scattered across the globe. Some help humanity to survive such as cows and sheep. But there's another type of species too, the second most intelligent living creatures in mankind's world to date. Transport.

We don't know how we were created, or why we suppose to be here, but those are the same questions humans ask themselves. So after a few experiments with seeing how we are born, there is still no answer. Transport and humans are very similar in some ways. But unlike humans, transport have less rights, for a long period of time, the machines have worked for them. And they still do, since that is their purpose and the reason why they are in this world. But back in the 18th and 19th centuries, we didn't get any rights, and we didn't complain because of that, but unlike cars or aeroplanes, my kind have been around the longest from coming out of workshops.

I am a locomotive, a steam engine otherwise known to humans. We came after boats, but were the first to work properly on land. But we weren't safe from the clutches of people's greed for money and power. With this greed, they could put us endangered of being withdrawn, and scraped. But there has been a place, where engines could be free, to work on a railway that takes care of them and you could trust that they'll keep you safe. This railway, is located far away from your home, on a island off of the north west coast of Cumbria, England. No, it is not the Isle of Man, but between it and England, which we call the mainland. Is a much bigger island, this place, is called the Island Of Sodor. Home to the North Western Railway.

I use to work there for over a century. With a lot of colleagues, some were steam, some were diesel. Either big, small, fast or slow, every engine did what they could to show that they weren't out of date and can be useful

But I have forgotten formalities haven't I? My name, is Edward, the Blue Engine, built as a Furness Railway Class K2 "Large Eagle". But wasn't given my full title name before a man showed up and changed our world. My name was just Edward, I was just given a random name when I first came out of Atlas Works in Glasgow in the year, 1896. I worked on the Furness Railway for a few years. Pulling whatever I needed to do. I mostly did passengers, but I did did some shunting and goods. I didn't this type of work, it was a sport I would say in my smokebox, even though some of the other tender didn't like this taste. Even so, I would work on the Furness for many, many years and I wouldn't want it to change one bit. But one evening, in the year of 1915, I was chosen to be sold off to Sodor, with another engine I would meet. An engine that would be a good friend for the rest of my life.

I met him when I first came to the sheds I was located at. It had been a busy day, it would have been my last day working on the Furness, and I was suppose to take a train to Sodor full of supplies that would be needed, for that the railway was being formed from three separate railways. I was about to go to sleep, just so I would gain more strength when I take the train, when I heard laughter coming nearby. I opened my eyes and looked over to the other side of the yards. I soon forgot about resting as I saw two J1s laughing at an engine I had never seen before.

I narrowed my eyes. "Driver," I said, "can you move me over to those tank engines please?"

"Hmm? Oh sure," replied the driver, he quickly got into my cab and took me over to the tank engines.

Once I got closer to them I could understand them what the tank engines were talking about. "He's definitely a Brighton engine don't you think?"

"Oh he is! I mean, look how weak and weird he looks."

"I'm not weird looking! I'm just a knew type of class called the E2s. And besides, I don't belong in Brighton anymore."

The J1s sniggered. "Then where are you from then?" asked one.

"W-well I haven't gotten there yet, I-I'm travelling," replied the E2.

The J1's burst out laughing. "Silly tank engine!" bursted out the other, "he doesn't know where he belongs!"

"Actually Harry he belongs where I'm heading," I called out as I came to a stop between the J1s on one side and the E2 on the other. "I believe he is travelling with me to Sodor."

Harry and his brother rolled their eyes. "Really?" said Harry, "I don't think he could make it with that size of a bunker."

The E2 wheeshed steam. "You shouldn't really mock someone's appearance Harry, and you too Roland," I replied, "why when you two were built, apparently you were teased about how your wheel arrangement was."

Harry and Roland looked at me in shock. "H-how did you know about that?" asked Roland.

"One of the older engines told me about this after I first met you two," I replied with a smirk on my face. "Now leave the engine alone now."

"Huh," scoffed Harry, "he's two decades younger than us and he's ordering us about like children."

I over heard this and gave back a response I remember clearly. "Well you two are acting like children!"

Harry and Roland growled and puffed away to do work. The E2 looked over at me and snarled. "I had that under control!" he snapped.

I looked at him astonished. "Well I'm sorry for coming in to aid you and make them go away," I replied.

"Pah," wheeshed the E2.

An awkward silence fell upon us both. I didn't know what to say, I was expecting a thank you from the young tank engine. But instead I got a lashing by him.

"So," I started, trying to start up a conversation. "Are you going to Sodor?"

The tank engine pondered. "Yes, that's why I'm here."

"Oh," I said, "sorry, I don't mean to be rude but I thought you'd be a distant cousin. Or at least a tender engine."

The E2 opened his mouth to speak. Then closed it shut. It seemed to me he was reconsidering his words. At last he spoke up. "Sorry for disappointing you, but at least I'm here!"

"Why?" I asked, puzzled.

"Well, at least I'm a shunting engine," he recorrected himself, "apparently all the shunting engines on Sodor are too small or weak to shunt bigger trains. So I was brought for a good price to shunt at the main station on the new railway!"

"Really?" I chuckled.

"So what are you doing when you get. there?" asked the E2.

"Oh, well... I'll probably do some goods or shunting work to help with the construction of the railway. But afterwards I've been told to pull the railway's express."

"An express!?"

"An express," I repeated with a light chuckle.

"Wow, I've always wanted to pull an express," smiled the E2, "maybe even a train."

"I see," I said, then the last part of what the E2 came to my smokebox. "Wait! You mean you haven't pulled a train before?"

"Well... no," replied the E2, "I've only been doing shunting duties as tests to see how I would work. I've never pulled any sort of train before."

"Well you will soon," smiled Edward, "we're suppose to double head a goods train to Sodor."

"Really?"

"Of cause!" I chuckled when I saw the look on the E2's face. He looked very eager and excited.

"Great! When are we going?" he asked quickly.

"At 7:30 PM," I replied, "so it'll be nightfall once we get there. I would suggest you get some rest before continuing the journey."

I then began to head back to my shed. "Okay! And thank you mister... number 125!"

I came to holt immediately when he said that. "What did you call me?" I called back to the E2. I wasn't angry at him, I was just a bit startled by what he said.

"I called you number 125," replied the E2, "isn't that your name?"

"Ohhh," I realised what the tank engine meant by calling me by my number. He must think my name is my own number. "No, no, my name is Edward," I responded.

"Edward?" repeated the E2, "But I thought only named engines are suppose to be named, like the terriers."

"No, us Furness engines are given humans names, so our crews, staff and engines can identify each other more efficiently."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, it is very handy," I then paused for a second, thinking of my next choice words more carefully. "You don't have a name. Don't you?"

"N-no," sighed the E2.

"Well, we have to give you a name, it isn't right for you to not have name," I said trying to sound as confident as I could.

But before I could suggest any names to the E2, my driver poked his head out of my cab. "Come on old boy," said my driver, "you better get some rest before you leave tonight. Don't want you to be over run a signal like those J1s."

The E2 laughed loudly. "If I see those idiots again before I leave, I'm going to make them pay!"

I chuckled as I was moved back to the shed. I pondered names for the E2, but none came to mind that would suit him. I didn't thought about it too much though as I slowly went to sleep.

*

I woke up as soon as the sun was about to set. I had my fire relit and steamed out of the sheds one last time. "Goodbye Jerry! Goodbye Carolyn! And goodbye Maude!" I called to the other engines at my shed. All different classes to each other, older or younger than me.

They all said goodbye in response as I puffed away to collect my train. I soon found the goods train in a siding near the station I was allocated at, well use to be. The E2 was waiting there for me, siting excitedly next to it. There across him were Harry and Roland. To my surprise, they didn't say anything rude to the E2, but both of them did look sulky. I puffed up next to the E2 and raised a mysterious eyebrow at him with sly smile too.

"Did you-"

"Yep!" interrupted Thomas, "they shut up right there and then, after I mentioned it!"

I laughed as I looked over to the two brothers. "Good one," I said, "now, best we get on to our train before we miss our path."

"Aren't you going behind?" asked the E2.

"Me?" I exclaimed, "no, no. Most experienced engine goes at the front of the train."

The E2's face fell. "Don't worry," I sympathised, "soon one day, you'll be experience as much as I am. Maybe even more!"

The E2 smiled and puffed to the front of the train. I followed suite and I was coupled in front of him.

"Good luck Eddie!" called Harry, "we'll miss you!"

"Yeah! What he said!" added Roland.

I chuckled. "Goodbye you two, and I hope I'll see you in the near future!"

"I thought they always acted like idiots," whispered the E2.

"They are arrogant and short-minded," I replied, "but have good hearts."

The guard then blew his whistle and waved his green flag, the signal dropped. The E2 and I then began to spin out wheels around on the solid rails and puffed out of the yard and on to the line towards the Island Of Sodor.

We thundered down the line, passing fields of cows and sheep. Villages and towns and station came passed us for only a few seconds as we travelled with our goods train down the line.

"So, what do the crews call you then?" I asked the E2 after a few minutes from the sun going down and the moon shining up.

"They call me 108," replied The E2, "the number is on my bunker so it makes sense."

"I see," I said, "well we must give you a name."

I pondered for a seconds. "How about Winston?"

"No, not my name," came the reply.

"John?"

"No thank you."

"Nigel?"

"No."

"Peter?"

"Nope."

"Simon? William? Arthur? Richard?"

"... No."

"Oh come on! You must like one of those names?" I asked.

"No, I don't," replied 108.

"Oh well," I sighed, "I guess I can think of some more once we get to Sodor."

I understood why 108 didn't want to just choose a name like that. There were lots of different names for an engine like himself, but I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed..

As we rumbled through Barrow-In-Furness, I felt my coupling between 108 and I tighten. "You nervous?" I asked gently.

"A bit," muttered 107 quietly, "I mean, this is a totally different railway! New yards, new landmarks, new engines..."

I smiled down at my buffers. I could feel he was already missing his old home. "Never mind 108," I said sympathetically, "I understand what you're going though too. But sometimes change is for the better. Saying goodbye to old ones is never a proper goodbye. You maybe even see them again one day at one of our stations. And besides, there are many other engines on this railway too you know."

"I know," said 108. I then felt the straining coupling loosen as the E2 class tank engine picked up my speed again. We then crossed the bridge off of the mainland to Sodor. Our new home.

But as we puffed off the bridge and on to the land of Sodor, I couldn't help but feel something different. Fourteen years I had been working on the Furness Railway, I had to say goodbye to everything I knew about the railway for another one. But I knew, that that adventure had finished. An a new adventure had begun.

And this one would be much much more longer than the previous.


	2. Ep2: The Wrong Tank Engine

It was late when 108 and I arrived at the station. We came to a stop next to a station's platform. I didn't bother to tell 108 that goods train weren't allowed in stations. It was night time after all, so not many passengers were on the station. A man in a smart, blue-looking uniform was standing on the platform. He looked up at a sheet he was reading and turned to us.

"Ah, you two must be the new engines that the director was expecting," he said. 108 and I didn't say anything. "Well, are you?" asked the man, a bit more strictly with his voice this time.

"Oh y-yes," I stumbled, "you've ordered a Furness Railway K2 Class, Number 125. And a London, Brighton and South Coast Railway E2 Class tank engine. Numbered 108."

For some reason, I felt 108's buffers go cold against mine. I looked over at the man, his eyes were narrowed and he looking through the papers. "That's odd?" he said, "it said here that number 100 should be with you."

"Really?" I said.

"Yes, all in the papers, doesn't mention an engine numbered 108," replied the man. There was a long pause. "Well, I'll have to talk to the director about this in the morning," said the man, "in the meantime, just shunt the train into a siding and head for the sheds."

"Understood," I replied, "Come on 108. Better shunt them together."

108 and I then pushed our train to a nearby siding. Once that was all sorted we headed to the sheds. The sheds were much bigger than the ones back at my old location, enough to hold about six or seven engines. 108 and I were uncoupled from each other to go into a different birth. I puffed into a space next to the empty birth that was in the left corner of the shed and right of me was another red engine.

"Hello there," I greeted the red engine, "My name is Edward, what's yours?"

"I don't have a name," chuckled the red engine, my jaw dropped. The red engine chuckled.

"Don't worry about thinking of a name for me," he said with a grin to his face, "The other engines are trying to think of one for me too. Currently they've given me the nickname Red."

"Well, that's a relief," I smiled, breathily out a sigh, "but I've still got to name this one over there."

I looked over to see 108 puffing down into the birth next to me. Looking down at his buffers sheepishly.

"Well that explains it," said Red.

"Explains what?" I asked.

"You two are the new engines aren't you?" he asked.

"Well yes and no," I replied quickly.

Red looked at me with a confused look on his face. "What do you mean. That there is an E2, and you're a K2, that's what The Fat Director ordered didn't he?"

"Yes, but that is the wrong E2," I said.

"W-what?" said Red looking even more confused than before.

"Number 100 was suppose to come here with me," I explained, I then looked over at the tank engine. "That's, 108."

"Oh, ohhhh, I see," replied Red, he then looked over at 108. "Hey, 108. Did you know about this. mix-up?"

108 looked over at Red. A flicker of fear came from his eyes, he then looked back down to his buffer beam.

Red then muttered something I couldn't make out. But I knew that he didn't like the tank engine one bit already. I then looked all over him and raised an eyebrow. "What class are you?" I asked, "I've never seen yours before

Eagle chuckled. "Furness Railway D5 Class," he said.

"But you barely look like one," I said.

"I know, I know," chuckled Red "But I'm an experiment. I was given a 2-6-0 configuration unlike my brothers. So to cope around bends and hills."

"Did it work?"

"Well I'm the only one of my class that has these modifications, so I guess not," smiled Eagle.

Just then, a sharp whistle came from up ahead. I looked to see a long, dark red tank engine come into view. He looked like a LSWR 415 class. Or a radial tank engine, he had the number 3 on each side of his bunker and the letters WS on his tanks. He grumbled into the shed and stopped next to Red.

"Twice today, twice!" he exclaimed.

"What happened," sighed Red, who rolled his eyes with a sly smile on his face.

"Clyde got too puffed up again," started the radial tank, "and got me and Colin's trains mixed-up. And Colin being the engine he is, doesn't realise he had my train until he got to that stupid hill!"

"And what about the second time?" asked Red.

"Neil was late with his train today, and guess what! It was a guaranteed-connection! I was blooming late for him and I got all the blame for it! I tell you Reddy, those Sodor Mainland engines are just excuses for being engines. I mean do they look like engines? No! No they don't!"

The radial tank than stopped and breathed heavily looking straight on. "You finished?" asked Red after a few seconds.

"...yeah," came the reply.

"Alright, Edward, this is Adam," introduced Red, "he use to work on the Wellsworth and Suddery Railway with two other engines."

"Please too meet you," I said to Adam kindly.

"Pleasures all mine," smiled Adam, "Sorry about that earlier. The SM engines are just rubbish at working properly."

"Don't give Edward the wrong idea of them Adam," said Red sternly.

"Wrong idea?!" exclaimed Adam, "I'll have you know, you weren't here during the times when our railways were separate!"

"And now they are," replied Red, "grow up and except that we are all one railway."

I began to like Red a lot after he said. He was definitely a decade or less younger than I was, which I stood corrected. Then a heard a loud shrill whistle.

"Look, there's Emily, she doesn't have a problem with you or Lily or Colin," pointed out Red.

"What's all this about me having problems?" came a voice of a female engine.

A large stirling single then backed down into the sheds next Adam, making the only one birth available for one other engine. The engine look beautiful, she looked like a GNR G3 class. Stirling single engine with a 4-2-2 configuration, with her driving wheels being eight feet tall. She looked even more stunning with emerald green covering herself with golden lining. The words on her tender spelled SM, with the number four on each side of her cab. She looked immaculate. I was secretly impressed.

"Emily, this is Edward," announced Red to the stirling single, "Edward this is Emily."

"Please to meet you," I said.

"And you too," replied Emily with a smile coming to her face. She then looked over at 108 and frowned. "Who's that?"

"What did he just say?" scoffed Adam, looking annoyed as he could. "That's 108."

Emily wheeshed steam at Adam, easily offended by his words. "Learn manners you silly engine," she said crossly. Adam rolled his eyes.

"108 is a stowaway," explained Red, "he wasn't actually meant to come here."

108 looked like he wanted to puff away and never come back to the island again. I looked back at Red who continued on explaining his theory to Emily.

"One of his brothers were meant to be here, but I'm afraid he came instead," finished Red.

"Oh dear," said Emily, "does The Fat Director know about this?"

"One of the staff members at the station is going to call him tomorrow," I replied, then I stared at Emily. "Who, is The Fat Director? Come to think of it, Red mentioned him as well."

Red, Adam and Emily all looked at each other. "The Fat Director is Sir Bertram Topham Hatt," informed Emily, "he is our director, and your's too."

"Why do you call him that?" I asked.

Adam scoffed. "It's a nickname we've gave him," he replied, "he's the reason this is all happening. We just call him that now, but don't say it to his face!"

"Why?"

"Well... it's more of an insult than anything," explained Red, "trust me, Adam told this nickname to a loaner tank engine and he mentioned it too The Fat Director's face. Let's just say that the director didn't take this kindly."

"He's nice!" butted in Emily, "but he's strict."

"I'll keep that in mind," I smiled after receiving this information.

"Well I think it's time we got some rest," announced Emily, "busy day tomorrow!"

"And could be a very eventful one too," added Red, he looked over at 108, then raised his eyebrows in surprise. I looked over to see that the E2 had fallen asleep already. I smiled and followed after him.

*

We all woke up to a bright sun shining down upon us. Adam had to blink many times to get his eyes to focus. I looked over to see how 108 was doing. But to my shock, he wasn't there. I looked around the yard. But couldn't see him.

"Hey, does anyone know where 108 went?" I asked.

"Sorry, but I think all of us have only seen him last night before we went to sleep," replied Emily and the other two agreed with her.

I looked around the yards again. Hoping to see the small E2. But none available. I was soon steamed up and I was moved away to the station to take my first train. I was surprise to find it was a goods train waiting there next to a station platform.

"Why's that there?" I asked my driver.

"It's there for you," replied my driver, "we have to take it to the next station down from here. Come along now."

And I did. I buffered up to the train of vans. The guard blew his and waved his green flag and set out of the station to the next.

"Come on, come on, come on," I called back to the trucks.

"Alright, alright, alright!" grumbled back the vans as we slowly puffed out of the station.

I began to pick up speed down the line. The vans trotted behind as he tumbled down the line. We went passed a river and through a tunnel. I pounded the rails, listening to the beat of my puffing inside the tunnel and thundered out of it. I whistled to a signal box nearby to tell them we were puffing by. The signalman got the message and made sure we got to the next station alright. We did, and soon enough, I puffed into the station and came to a stop.

"Phew," I said, "that was a good run. How long was it driver?"

"Probably a few miles," my driver replied, "now we can't stay here all day. We best shunt this train into one of those sidings over there."

I did what I was told and shunted the vans into a siding. Whilst my crew went to notify the yardmaster, I looked curiously around then I saw a familiar black-looking tank engine, shunting by. I immediately knew who he was.

"108! 108!" I called out to him.

The E2 looked over to me in surprise. A few minutes later, he crept up to me. "H-hey Edward," he stuttered out.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"I was told that the engine here couldn't handle the work here so I was ordered to come here and help out," replied 108.

"Well, you did alright at it," I smiled looking around, "good work."

"Thank you," said 108.

"So are you finished?" I asked, "cause I'm heading back to the main station. Do you want to come?"

"Sure. Why not?" smiled 108.

Soon, 108 and I arrived back at the station. There, on the platform, was a well dress looking gentleman. He stood proudly, with a cane being hold by his right hand and a top hat was placed on his head. He looked very smart.

"Hello there," he said, as 108 and I came to a stop next to the stout gentleman. "You must be the new engines I ordered, aren't you?"

"Yes sir," I replied quickly.

"Good, good," replied the stout gentleman with a smile on his face. "I'm Sir Bertram Topham Hatt. The current director of this railway."

"Pleasure to meet you sir!" I greeted, trying to be respectful.

The director gave a quite chuckle. "Eager are we? That's good. Now, what's your name?"

I blinked. "M-my Name sir?"

The Director nodded. "Yes, all engines have names, don't they?"

"My, my name is Edward, sir," I replied.

"Edward, well good job with taking those vans to Croven's Gate," beamed Sir Bertram Hatt. He then turned to look at 108. "You must be that tank engine that got mixed-up with the one I ordered then," he said.

"Y-Yes sir," replied 108.

The director paused for a moment. "Well you have been working well on my railway and you are the same class of tank engine that I've ordered, so I've made arrangements with the London, Brighton South Coast Railway that you'll stay here, whilst your brother will stay where you were originally going."

108 brighten up. "Thank you sir!" he cried, "I promise I won't let you down!"

"That's a good engine," smiled the director, "now I want you two to head back to Croven's Gate to get repainted."

"Yes sir!" We both said in unison, Sir Bertram laughed at this, excused himself and left.

"What a lovely man," smiled 108 as we puffed off to do more work.

"Indeed," I chuckled, "guess your staying then?"

"I think I am," replied 108, "don't tell anyone but number 100 doesn't have extended side tanks like me."

My jaw dropped for a minute and I began to laugh. "Well that doesn't matter now, you're here and he's there. Now I better get ready for my next train, this time, I'm heading up to Cronk."

"Tell me how Sodor is like when you get back!" called 108, as we were uncoupled from each other.

"I will!" I called back, and we went are separate ways.


	3. Ep3: Old Rivals

I was only on the railway for almost a year, we manage to get the viaduct completed at Cronk. With that out of the way, all the engines from the original three railways were now all connected on one big railway. But there was a problem with this. There are many rivalries back when I was on the Furness Railway. With other railways trying to compete with each other to be the best and successful. I've had heard from other engines when you meet a rival engine from another railway, it doesn't go so well. I expect it would just be and only be an argument. But I was wrong, especially with the engines on Sodor.

Some of the older engines were very competitive on each other. Adam and another engine called Samson were trying to take heavy loads, whilst two other engines called Colin and Clyde tried to be the better shunter. I was frustrated by this, at least some of the other engines were willing to change. Like Emily and Lily, I think this was because of they were the same gender, and since female engines were looked down back in those days they stuck together like glue. Lily was LSWR O2. She was built the same year as Adam and on the same railway, she was strict, but kind. Especially with One, she took him under her wing and taut him how to shunt coaches, since he was assigned to be the station pilot at Vicarstown, where we were currently stationed at.

Sorry, but you may be confused with who One is. Well he was originally 108. But after a repaint, and new number one was put on each side of his tanks, we called him One. I was given the same coat of paint, but with the number two on the side of my tenders. I still tried to give One a name, but it was hopeless. I couldn't think of anything for him.

"Don't worry about it," soothed my driver one day, "we'll find a name for him soon."

I sighed deeply. "I do hope so, I'm beginning to loose names."

"Did ya try mixing some names together?" asked Roger, a small boxy looking engine who was originally from SM like Emily, with the number one, on each side of him.

"A few I did," I replied, "like Rodam, Henald, Or even Mattford, but it's still not working."

"Well, at least you're trying," smiled Roger "just try a bit more, and eventually you'll get there."

"Yeah, like shunting goods trains properly!"

Roger groaned as Adam puffed into Wellsworth yard with a train of empty wagons. He glared at Roger and then looked at me.

"How's the work down the line going Edward?" he asked me with a smile on his face.

"Alright," I replied, ignoring what I just saw. "We've just got to add a few more parts before opening the mainline fully to the public. But otherwise we're still going well."

"That's good," chuckled Adam. The signal for me turned green.

"Well I better be off then," I said, putting on a fake smile, blew my whistle and puffed out of the yards, as quickly as I dared. But as I ran over the points on to the mainline, I heard Adam and Roger beginning an argument.

"Really Adam? Can you just think with this stupid smokebox of your's and try and remember we're running a bigger railway now."

"Well sometimes things can't change. Can't they?"

"Well they can if you just won't be such a stubborn prick all the time."

"Watch your tongue you Irish blockhead!"

"I was built in Scotland you idiot!"

"Goodness," I said to my driver, "they're working on a railway together now. But some of them are still at each other's tongues!"

My driver nodded. "Yes indeed," he agreed, "Sir Topham Hatt has do something and fast, before it gets out of hand."

As I puffed away, I couldn't help but feel unsure The Fat Director will realise until too late...

Adam was an alright engine. But he was a bit of a hypocrite, mocking other engines if they made a mistake. Some days he was nice, but some days it was best to stay away from him.

One day, though, something happened to solve both problems, with the old rivalries, and naming One. It was windy day on Sodor as per usual in an autumn season. Red was waiting with a maintenance train at Killdane, waiting to be let back on to the mainline. When Neil arrived with a small passenger train. The branch line use to be apart of SM's mainline but since the North Western's mainline goes from Vicarstown, to Tidmouth, they downgraded the section of track to a branch line.

"Hullo Red," greeted Neil, "just to let you know some of those trucks feel a bit loose around the couplings so make sure they get to Cronk safely!"

"Don't worry Neil," grinned Red, "I'll take as much as I can."

The signal then dropped to green, and Red puffed out of the yard, carefully. Red puffed down the line, trying his best to make the trucks come along but not try and bump them too hard. When Red got to Cronk, Clyde was there with Colin.

Clyde use to work on the SM with Roger, Neil and Emily. Like Roger and Neil, he was a box tank, painted green with the number three on his sides. He was the youngest out of the three though, and was more adventurous than them. This would cause him to get into mishaps.

Colin, use to work on the WS, he built the railway before the other two engines arrived. He was first one on that railway, but was youngest, and was the smartest of engines. Some of us even wondered if we was the right age, or he just had the mental age of a five-year-old.

Whatever the case, Clyde loathed the young saddle tank. Every time Colin did something different Clyde would always scold him. Colin would always tried to defend himself, but this would make Clyde even more angry. Roger and Neil did there best to calm their younger brother, but it would make no difference. Surprisingly, Clyde would keep mouth shut To Colin whenever Lily and Adam were around but if any other engine was around, he'll attack Colin no matter what.

Today when Red came into the yards, Clyde was complaining to Colin.

"You see dimwit, those trucks are meant to go on that line, not the other line."

"Why can't they?" asked Colin, "I mean it doesn't effect you and I with shunt-"

"Don't give me attitude!" snapped Clyde.

"I'm not really," murmured Colin to himself.

"What's going on?" asked Red, who came to a stop next to Clyde.

"This dimwitted engine here doesn't know how to shunt properly!" exclaimed Clyde.

"If I didn't, I don't think my old railway would last very long," replied Colin firmly.

"Why you-!"

"Stow it you two," ordered Red sternly, "we aren't here to bash each other until we're off the rails. We are here to run a railway. Clyde, if you're available, can you bring some of these trucks down to Vicarstown this afternoon?"

"Yeah sure," responded Clyde, "but why me?"

"Because it's only a small supply of trucks and Colin might be needed here to help with heavier loads," informed Red, "now can you please stop bickering and get the rest of my trucks please? I don't want to miss my path."

"Oh yes sure!" replied Colin and he puffed away.

That afternoon, Clyde buffered up to the small train of trucks. Colin pulled up next to him whilst he was being coupled up. "Um, Clyde?"

"What?"

"Are you sure it's safe to push your train to Vicarstown?" asked Colin, worriedly.

"Listen, I've done this most of the time back on the SM, so shut your mouth and get back to work!"

"Okay, okay," replied Colin calmly and puffed quickly back to the sidings. Leaving Clyde alone.

"Stupid saddle tank," grumbled the small box tank. He was grumbling so much, when the signal came down for him he left the yards without a guard.

Clyde puffed down the line, fuming about Colin and the other old rivals he had back in the late 18th century. But as he neared Croven's Gate, he was too busy thinking about Colin and the other old rivals, he wasn't paying attention to a signal that was red. Until too late...

Once Clyde saw it, he immediately applied the brakes quickly. Too quickly, the sudden force of Clyde holding the trucks back made the coupling on one truck brake. Making Clyde and two wagons coming to a stop, whilst six others and a brake van trundled away.

"Oh no," muttered Clyde, "stop! Stop!"

But the trucks didn't. "On! On! On!"

The trucks began to build up speed, and without a guard the trucks had nothing against them. They were now a runaway. One was at Croven's Gate station, he was ordered to shunt a few trucks there and come back to Vicarstown when the work was done. He had completed it and was now waiting at the platform for a clear path, he was talking to Rheneas, who, was also trying to give him a name.

"Michael?"

"No."

"Gabriel?"

"No."

"Angelo?"

"Too European."

Rheneas sighed. "We've got to give you a name! You're too hard to figure out!"

One laughed weakly. "Sorry, I guess One is still my name then."

Rheneas then smiled. "I guess, but I'm still going to try and find a name for you. With Edward too."

Just then, a signalman came out of his signal box, waving and shouting. "A runaway is coming down from here! Clear the station!"

One and Rheneas then looked down the line to see some trucks rattling down the line on the other track to One. They zoomed past them.

"Bust my buffers!" cried One, "they're heading to the terminus, I must warn the them!"

One then rushed away. Everyone was surprised. "Wait One wait!" yelled Rheneas, "you haven't got clearance yet! The line isn't safe!"

But One didn't listen. The trucks clattered down the line, laughing and screaming. One went as fast as his wheels could let him. At last One passed the trucks and carried on to Vicarstown. Adam and I were resting at the sheds, when we heard a faint whistle.

"Ah," sighed Adam, "that's our number one! Good think he's back early."

But I was concerned. "One doesn't whistle that loud when coming towards stations usually," I said.

"So what?" smiled Adam.

I then looked at the red tank engine. "It sounds like he's coming in fast too."

Adam listened for a moment and then his eyes widened. We then looked to the station, to see One coming at about 40 or 50 miles per hour, whistling fit to burst. He began to brake as quickly as he could and stopped right next to the other signal box.

"A runaway is coming on the other line to me!" he cried, "you must change the points!"

And that's what the signalman did. Quickly he got back into his signal box and set the points into an empty siding away from the station. The trucks some came through the station and ran off the mainline and into the siding. The trucks rammed into the buffers and derailed. Adam and I were very shocked by the whole experience. None of us said a word until Adam spoke up. "Well, that's our first crash on the railway then."

I looked crossly. "Too soon?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied and Adam looked at his buffers sheepishly.

Soon, Lily came with a crane along with Clyde coming in a worried state. Quickly asking me about what happened.

The Fat Director soon came to inspect the damage. He went around the place, asking staff, Adam and I about what we saw. After that, he went to see One, he talked with him for a while, and a few minutes later he went back into his office. I then looked over at One to see him beaming.

Later that night, all the engines came to Vicarstown. Engines that use to be on the original three railways. Colin, Lily and Adam from WS. Roger, Neil, Clyde, Emily and another tank engine called Whiff from the SM. And from the Tidmouth, Knapford and Elsbridge Light Railway was four tank engines three coffee pots called Glynn, Claire, Jane and big open cab tank engine called Samson.

One, Red and I were the only knew ones there. Soon The Fat Director arrived, he walked over to them sternly.

"The North Western Railway is a railway that use to be three separate railways," he started, "and most of you use to work on them. But now you all work together."

He then paused impressively. "Today an accident happened here with part of a runaway train. This was because of a ... distracted engine."

The stout gentleman looked over at Clyde and the small box tank looked down to the rails in shame. "If he wasn't so against the engines who use to be his rivals this accident wouldn't of happened would it? Now I know all of you weren't going to be able to work together properly but I was hoping it wasn't going to get so serious like this. We are now all one railway, and if you don't accept it, then I don't know what to do yet, but the punishment will be harsh."

"Sir," started Colin, "what would of happened if the runaway train continued on down the mainline?"

"It would've carried on to the Furness Railway."

The engines all looked at each other. The Fat Director nodded. "It's a lucky thing that Thomas here got here just in time to stop the runaway."

The engine then looked at the North Western's number one, Thomas smiled proudly. The Fat Director chuckled and gave a tip to the hat and left.

There was a long silence.

"So, your called Thomas now?" asked Roger to the blue tank engine.

"Yes I am," beamed Thomas, "when The Fat Director came to me he asked me how I stopped the trucks. After I told him he was very proud of me. He then decided to give me a name himself."

"Guess it took a while?" chuckled Red.

"Yes it did," smiled Thomas, "he then landed on the name Thomas. After the workshop I was built in. I like it, so he named me it."

"I never actually thought of that name," I said, trying to recall if I did or did not.

"Well if you did, Thomas wasn't listening then," joked Red. A chuckled came from us.

There was another, long silence.

"Well, I think I owe some of you an apology," said Adam meekly, "I was to stuck up to think properly."

"Like you always are," whispered Colin to no one in particular. Adam glared at the saddle tank and Colin subsided.

"I think I owe you an apology too," said Clyde to Colin.

"It's alright," smiled Colin, "I'm sorry too."

"Well, I guess that's all sorted," said Roger, "now let's get some rest, we all have another big day tomorrow."

And we did, and we all worked hard together. Soon, the North Western Railway was open to the public. We all did our part in running the railway, I pulled the express and many passenger trains. Red pulled the goods trains, Thomas became the station pilot at Vicarstown and the other engines worked on the branch lines, other yards or sometimes helped Red and I on the mainline.

I also forgot to mentioned, that we now had a different target to shoot at. Red's name was still not chosen yet. But I cannot say anymore, otherwise I'll spoil the next story.


	4. Ep4: The Soaring Eagle

The North Western Railway was thriving after its completion in 1915, more goods customers came and made contracts with The Fat Director so there goods could travel quicker and for passengers, they flocked to the railway stations. By the next year, we were all getting worn out. But we all did are best. We were so busy though, we didn't have enough time to think of names properly for Red.

Red was indeed still being considered a proper name. But none of us could think to give him one and we were beginning to get frustrated with calling him Red. One day though, I was at Kellsthorpe Road station with a fast passenger service waiting for another engine. It was a guaranteed-connection and he was running late.

I was beginning to get worried. But I finally heard the familiar whistle of a grey tank engine, Samson.

Samson was built by The Fat Director and was custom built. He was "one of a kind" as he put it. Even so, he was very stuck up and proud of what he was. He use to work on the TKELR, but had a grey livery than the light red the coffee pot engines had. He was given the Kirk Ronan branch since there was more goods coming from it instead of passengers.

The grey tank engine came into the station with his usual passenger service. I looked over with a raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're late," I teased.

"I know!" exclaimed Samson almost immediately, "I got held up."

"You, got carried away with your shunting again, didn't you?" I smirked.

"Well-I..." Samson stopped there.

"Just as I thought," I said.

Samson seethed in rage. "Now you listen here you," he said, "I am the only one running this line, and it is tiring work."

"Really?" I asked, "are you over worked then?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Samson.

"If you were, you would be leaving this station this very second to take that goods train over there," I told.

Samson looked back at me with gritted teeth. But before he could say anything, my guard blew his whistle and puffed away to make up lost time. I didn't have time to tease or scold him. My priority was to get my passengers to their destinations, on time.

I soon arrived back at Vicarstown with my my service, a bit late, but I manage to get a few minutes back. Red was there, waiting for a clear path.

"Hullo Edward!" he called, "how was your run here?"

"It went alright," I replied, as I was being uncoupled from the train. "But Samson decided to overdo his shunting, again."

"Well you know him," said Red, "he overdoes everything and when something goes wrong, he blames anything else but him."

"Indeed," I agreed, "but we should stop complaining about him and carry on with the work. After all, we're still in a war."

I forgot to mention through my previous stories. That whilst the construction of the NWR was ongoing, the year was 1915, a year after Britain and France had declare war on Germany and Austria-Hungary. The year was currently 1917 and we were still at war. After the opening of the railway we were given many contracts with S.R.F, also known as Sodor Royal Force. The man in charge of this army, was General Ralph Alexander. But he was currently in France.

We would take many trains to the fort, north of Vicarstown where we would be told to shunt them in many places. Originally, a tank engine would've done this job. But he too was in France with the general, so we were ordered to do this. Mainly Red or Adam would do these jobs, doing it with professionalism and caution.

One day, Adam and Red were at the fort, talking about the reason incident in the USA.

"I mean what else could make that explosion happen?"

"I see your point, with the USA joining us to fight, and in under four days later, an explosion happens in Pennsylvania. Germany or Austria-Hungary could've been responsible for this act. But I just think it was pure coincidence."

"Pah," scoffed Adam. Just then, one of the foremens came up to them.

"I've just got a phone call from an inspector at Kellsthorpe," he started, "apparently, one of your engines had broken down and wants the red tender engine to come help do the rest of his work."

"Um... okay," replied Red's driver, "come on old boy, we've probably be needed there now."

Red agreed and they soon left the fort to Kellsthorpe. He soon arrived at the branch line junction, where Samson was crossly waiting for him.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"At the fort," replied Red bluntly.

"Well you should've been here instead," scoffed Samson.

"I'm sorry," said Red, "I started my journey here as soon as I got the message about you breaking down."

"I haven't broken down!" snapped Samson loudly.

"Then why was I called?" asked Red.

Samson just glared at him. Looking like he was going to blow his smokebox off. Red just smirked. "I best get to work then," he said, and he puffed away.

Red worked hard over the next few days. He was much bigger than Samson, so he could take longer and heavier trains. Apparently, Samson had broken one of his piston rods, and needed to go to the works, which was now at Croven's Gate. Red had to stay on the branch line until he was repaired. I don't if it was lucky or not, but what would happen a few days later, I don't think Samson could do, like Red did.

It was night time when Red was getting ready to take a small fish train from Kirk Ronan's dockside. When everything was ready, he started off, pulling the fish vans gently out. He was doing nicely with his speed, but when he was heading near Rolf's Castle. He heard a buzzing sort of noise in the air.

"What's that?" asked Red.

His driver looked out of the red engine's cab. "I'm not sure. But it sounds like a plane."

"But the S.R.F never tests planes around these areas," said Red, "unless..."

He then gasped in realisation. "Quickly driver, we need to sound the alarm!"

"What?" asked his driver.

"That's a German plane!" cried the midland engine.

Immediately Red's driver saw what his engine meant and released the regulator fully. Red began to pick up speed, and once they came through Rolf's Castle, Red whistled as loudly as he could.

"German plane!"

The stationmaster soon heard the plane and called the town hall, who took out the lights and soon got the residents to escape their homes. Red rushed all the way too Kellsthorpe and got the attention of the stationmaster who called S.R.F. The plane swooped through the sky and began shooting bullets at Red. The red engine winced in pain as the bullets crashed onto him.

"We must stop," said the fireman.

"No!" exclaimed Red, "he's aiming for me! Let him follow me!"

So the crew let Red carry on to the mainline with his fish vans screaming behind him. Red toured down the line, with the plane still giving chase. It wasn't until they were reaching Croven's Gate when Red and his crew heard more buzzing noises. Red looked up at the sky to see the S.R.F's planes zoom across the sky and began to fire back at the German plane.

Red whistled with joy as the planes duelled in the night sky and at last, the German plane was knocked down from the sky, and went crashing into a field. Red came to stop at the work's station and gave a sigh of relief. The next hour, Emily arrived and took Red back to Kellsthorpe, there he was examined to see if he had any warn parts.

He was okay and was put back to work the next day. But after that next day, came the next. Where Red got a surprise waiting for him at Suddery. He puffed into the station, where he saw The Fat Director, a lieutenant from Fort Sudrian and the governor of Sodor. The man in charge of the island. With also many other people, some with cameras, some with notepads, and some that had just come to look at the red engine.

Red raised a brow. "What's all this?" he asked as he came to stop.

"A ceremony," replied the governor.

"F-for me?" asked Red again.

"Indeed," smiled the governor, "when I heard of your brave actions from two days ago I was impressed. It only did you warn people, but saved them too. When I asked your director what your name was he said you didn't have one."

"No sir, I don't," replied Red.

"So I decided to name you myself, as a reward for your honour for this island," replied the governor, "so we ordered that nameplate would be made for you as a BTL, code 3 badge on your cab sides."

"But I don't have a proper name yet," said Red.

"Until now," winked The Fat Director.

Red gasped as the governor unveiled a tarpaulin that was next to him and there, being bold by stands, were two nameplates saying, 'The Soaring Eagle' on them. Red looked back and forth at the men and nameplates in clear shock.

"The railway staff and some citizens described you were soaring down the line, like an eagle, so we took inspiration for this name," explained The Fat Director.

"I-I don't know what to say," said Red.

"You don't need too," replied the governor, "these will go on your, um... curvy things on your footplate."

"You mean splashers?"

"Yes, splashers!"

The crowd chuckled. The other just smiled. Once the nameplates were put on Red's splashers, they then placed the BTL badges on each side of the red engine's cab. The engine and crew were given a loud applause. They just smiled happily at the audience.

The Soaring Eagle continued on with his work after that. He took pride in his name, but didn't make him too puffed up in the smokebox. Samson was jealous. He said he could've done it if he hadn't broken down. No one told him otherwise, but I think we all knew that our red engine was the only one that could've done it. He was mainly called The Soaring Eagle to the residents of Sodor. But to us, we just called him Eagle, the Midland Engine.


	5. Ep5: New Arrivals

It had been a few years after The Great War ended. Not much had changed on Sodor. There had been mineable attacks from Germany and if so, they were very little. Even so, we did help with fixing up the damage property the Germans left behind and the S.R.F had to get more men and machines to rebuild the organisation. Trains came in and out of the fort where the army was based at. But that wasn't the only problem. The Fat Director was in desperate need of engines on the mainline since Emily, Whiff, Eagle and I couldn't handle the trains on our own anymore. The director had to order some engines, so he asked some of the inspectors to go and find engines who were on offer.

He looked at the sheets with one inspector looking at every detail. "Well inspector," he said, "which engines do you think we should loan or buy?"

The inspector didn't respond for a moment. Still checking the papers. "Well there is a GER class S69."

"An S69?" repeated The Fat Director, "that sounds promising. Powerful machines they are."

"There's also an NER Class S who's at a good price too," continued the inspector.

"I see," ponded The Fat Director.

"I suggest," said the inspector, "that you loan the engines, as a trial of some sort."

The Fat Director thought of the idea carefully. He then nodded approvingly. "Very well," he said, "anymore engines at a good price?"

"Well... I-um," stammered the inspector.

The director looked up from his papers and raised a brow. "Yes inspector?"

"There is one other engine from an unknown workshop," the inspector informed.

"What class?"

"None, sir. It's a hybrid between a GNR C1 Atlantic, and the GNR A0."

"Between a GNR A0?" The Fat Director stood up from his chair in shock.

"Yes," replied the inspector, "he isn't available for loan. But you can buy him at a affordable price."

"Really?" The Fat Director pondered. "How much?"

"18,000, sir," replied the inspector.

The Fat Controller nodded thoughtfully. "I see, let's order the engine then!"

"What about those other two from earlier?"

"Still going with the same plans with them," told The Fat Director, "come on then. We need to make arrangements with them."

And they did, but only to find later it would be a waste of money...

The two, loaned engines arrived the next week. Coming into Vicarstown with smug looking faces on them. I looked over at Emily who had a raised brow at them. The engines both came to a gentle stop next to the director who was waiting for them.

"Greetings sir," said the S69, "my name is Alfred. An Great Eastern Railway Class S69."

"And my name is Simon," added the S Class, "you must already know what class I am of cause if you asked for me."

"I know," smiled The Fat Director warmly, "and it is a pleasure to meet the both of you."

"What work do you want us to do?" asked Alfred.

The director looked stunned. "Well... you will be doing passenger work for me. Maybe even goods trains."

"That seems nice sir," chuckled Alfred, "please sir, may I rest? It has been a long journey to get here."

"Same here sir," added Simon.

The Fat Director nodded. "Of cause! But you will only need two hours. If you get bored try and find a inspector."

"Yes sir! And thank you!" called Alfred.

"Yes. Thank you sir!" called Simon as well, who tried to be even louder than Alfred as they back away. I saw Alfred scowl at him as they made their way to the sheds.

I watched them curiously as they backed into the shed. "Should we go over there and greet them?" I asked Emily. I was unsure what to do. They seemed nice to the director, but we weren't unsure of how they'll treat us.

"I'll go," said Emily, "see if they can treat a lady such as myself properly."

I watched nervously as Emily puffed towards the sheds where Alfred and Simon were. She puffed up next them, smiling warmly.

"Hello," she greeted, "my name is Emily a-"

"Go away," interrupted Alfred, "you are disturbing Simon and I from our rest."

Emily felt hurt, but she wasn't surprised about the rudeness for some reason. "I was just greeting you."

"Yes, well we don't want to hear about it," Simon said.

Emily wheeshed crossly. "I try and be kind and you already judge me?"

"Yes," replied Simon bluntly, "now, go, away."

Emily stared at them for a moment. Then sighed and puffed back to me. I watched her as she came to a stop next to me. "Well?" I asked and Emily explained everything to me. Once she finished, I groaned deeply, for some reason, I wasn't surprised either.

"Well the only thing positive about this is that they're loaned currently," I said, "so if they screw up, they'll be getting the boot off the island."

"Indeed," said Emily.

Sadly though, both of them stayed on. They were kind and respectful to The Fat Director, But they were the complete opposite to us when he wasn't around. I always thought of making plans of getting rid of them some days when they were getting too boastful for their own good. But I'll always get it out of my mind. After all, it wasn't how we do things around here. The others were even more angered by Alfred taking the express train I use to take. The Fat Director was very apologetic to me, and promised I would have one last run with it. I agreed and pulled my last train with it on March 15th 1922. It was only a week later after that, that Adam was at Vicarstown yards, he was waiting impatiently for a cleared signal, when an inspector came towards him.

"Hello," replied Adam, "what's the matter?"

"An engine coming from the Vicarstown bridge has broken down on it's way here," explained the inspector, "I need you to rescue it and bring it here."

Adam snorted. "I've got a train due to start soon," he complained, "so what if another engine fail-Ouch!"

Adam seethed in pain for second from his driver hitting a part of his cab, hard. "We'll be happy too sir," replied the driver.

"Alright then, that settles it," smiled the inspector, "now go on then."

Adam sulked to his crew whilst they puffed to the bridge which connects the railway to the mainland. The radial tank engine found the stranded engine almost halfway past the bridge. He looked like he was nearly building steam at all. Adam has never seen an engine such as it before. It looked closely though to a Great Northern C1 Atlantic, only with a few modifications and having a 4-6-2 configuration. Adam looked at the engine with a raised eyebrow.

"You're a weird looking engine," he said.

"Hey!" exclaimed the engine crossly, "I look better than you!"

"Ouch, that hurt," replied Adam sarcastically. If an engine had broken down in front of him, he wouldn't of cared in the slightest if they gave him rude remarks, after all, he wasn't the one that failed. But there something odd about this engine he couldn't put his buffer on.

Adam arrived back at Vicarstown a few minutes later. The Fat Director was waiting for them, with Alfred nearby at the water tower. The new express engine watched in interest as the two engines came in. The Fat Director walked up to them.

"Thank you Adam, don't you worry about your next train, Whiff has taken it. But you'll have to do his work for the rest of the day."

"Yes sir," groaned Adam, and he puffed away, sneering at the new engine. The Fat Director turned to him, when Adam left.

"You must be the new engine then?" he said.

"Yes sir," replied the new engine.

"I must say I am surprised that you broke down even before you could come to the first station on this railway."

"I am sorry sir, teething troubles currently, having been used much since my two years in service," replied the engine quickly.

The Fat Director nodded slowly. He then looked up at the engine. "What is your name?"

"Henry Sir," replied the engine.

"Henry, once you've built up steam, I would like you to take a passenger train as soon as possible," ordered The Fat Director.

"Yes sir," replied Henry. And he watched the Director walk away.

"Disgraceful."

Henry looked over at the engine who had just spoke rudely at him. Alfred looked over the new engine with an odd look on his face.

"You're not a build I've seen or heard before," he started, "what class?"

"I don't have a class name," replied Henry.

"Oh I see," said Alfred, "then you're a failure!"

Henry looked shocked at the Class S69. "Excuse me?"

"Well isn't it obvious?" smirked Alfred, "you don't have a class name because you're the only one if you're type, and because of that you must be a failed engine."

Henry growled crossly. "Shut up," he said to Alfred. The S69 chuckled.

"Make me."

Even if he wanted to, Henry couldn't move. He had no steam currently so he sat there, staring angrily at Alfred, who stared at him back. At last, an inspector came and order Alfred to take a passenger train to Tidmouth.

"So long, failure!" called Alfred. Henry seethed in rage quietly.

The loaned S69 buffered up to his passenger train. He waited for his passengers to get in, and once the guard blew the whistle and waved the green flag for them. Alfred was off.

Alfred thundered down the line. The passenger train he was taking wasn't stopping at all the stops, only at Killdane, Cronk, Wellsworth and Tidmouth at the other end of the line.

But not so far down the line. At Maron station, Colin and Clyde were shunting. Well, Clyde was, Colin couldn't open his regulator, and Clyde was readying a go at shunting a truck into the little shunter.

"Are you sure about this Clyde?" asked Colin nervously, "it seems unsafe and there is a high risk of derailment."

"Oh shut up, I'm trying to help you," sighed Clyde crossly.

He then puffed back a bit, then banged into the truck, hard. This caused the truck to run into Colin fiercely. "Ouch!" exclaimed both Colin and the truck.

"Well what were you expecting?" asked Clyde with a slight smirk on his face.

Colin sulked quietly to himself, whilst the truck howled. Then suddenly, Colin jerked forward. "Woah!" he cried, and he biffed into the truck hard. Making it go back towards the mainline. Clyde has just moved into one of the sidings and watched in horror when the truck casually stopped, only just going on to the points.

"You idiot!" cried Clyde.

"But it wasn't my fault!" defended Colin quickly, "you were the one who biffed that truck into me!"

"Yeah, I thought you would be in reverse!" yelled Clyde.

Suddenly the points that the truck was on changed and puffing sound could be heard. Clyde and Colin then looked at each other slowly. "Please tell he or she is on a different track," whispered Clyde.

Colin only stared down the mainline, wide-eyed. Alfred came around the corner at a fast pace. He gasped as he saw what was ahead of him. His driver saw the truck too, and applied the brakes, but Alfred was going too fast to stop in time. He banged into the truck making it load of stone go everywhere whilst it flew into the air. Alfred came to stop with he and a few coaches at the front of the train a few yards from the platform.

"Ouch," exclaimed the S69 Class, "why? Why was there a stone truck on the points in my way?"

Colin and Clyde said nothing. "It's not a rhetorical question?" yelled Alfred, "tell me!"

Colin and Clyde still said nothing. Alfred growled. "Come on boy," interrupted his driver, "we better get going. Are you alright to continue?"

"I'm fine," replied Alfred quietly.

"Are you su-"

"I SAID I AM FINE!"

Alfred's driver sighed and then pulled the regulator and they puffed away. Alfred still muttering crossly to himself. Colin and Clyde looked at each other.

"So who's going to take the blame?" asked Colin innocently.

*

Emily was waiting at Wellsworth. Because of Simon coming to the railway and the new engine too. She was put into use on the Brendam Branch and was waiting for Alfred with a guaranteed-connection. "Where is he?" she asked crossly to herself, "so much for his reputation."

She then heard a puffing noise come from the distance. She raised a brow, then she looked in astonishment. Alfred crossly puffed into view, going for a few miles and stopping a few hundred yards from the station platform.

"Nice for you to finely show up," said Emily, trying hard not to show a smile.

"Shut up," snapped Alfred, red in the face and out of breath.

Emily has no choice but to collect her passengers from Alfred's train and puff away, and Eagle had to collect Alfred and take him and the train all the way to Tidmouth. When Alfred was brought to Croven's Gate Works by me. The Fat Director, Henry and Simon were waiting for us. Once I shunted the Class S69 next to Simon. I was uncoupled and was told to head back to the sheds at Vicarstown by the director.

The Fat Director then turned to the three engines. Not looking cross, not looking sad. Just looking disappointed. "I am not pleased by you all," he started, he turned to Henry. "You breaking down not only on you're first day, but on the bridge to the mainland too. I'm not pleased."

"Yes sir, I am dreadfully sorry. Sir." replied Henry.

The Fat Director responded with a hum. He then turned to the other two engines. "You've been worse!" he exclaimed, "you have been rude to the other engines and disobey rules!"

"B-But sir!" protested Simon, "we haven't broken any rules!"

"Today," sighed The Fat Director, "today, Alfred broke rule 55. He went pass a signal set at danger, as well as speeding with a train that is suppose to go at a slow pace. This caused him to crash into a truck full of stone. The stone then bashed into his boiler, creating a hole in it. Now he needs a completely new boiler. And you Simon, you have broken a few more rules, with derailing railway property at Tidmouth, on purpose too, just so you could avoid pulling a train that you were too lazy to do."

"Bu-But-"

"No buts! You Alfred will get a replacement boiler in two days, within that time you'll be back at work next week," informed The Fat Director, "but you'll be looking different. You and Simon will both be getting new coats of paint. The same paint like what Thomas and Edward have."

"Ex-Excuse me sir?"

"And you'll be renumbered as well. Alfred, you'll be numbered, 98462. Whilst Simon, you'll be numbered as 87546."

"B-But sir!" exclaimed Alfred, "you can't do that! My Great Eastern livery is my heritage. I-"

"No Alfred," interrupted The Fat Director, "be grateful that I'm giving both of you a second chance."

Both engines looked down at their buffers, mixed feelings fuelling their smokeboxes. Then the director turned back to Henry. "I have brought you, I have no choice but to keep you. Please, don't do what these engines have done."

"Yes sir," replied Henry. The Fat Director then ordered him to go to Vicarstown to meet with a few of the engines, and the green engine did. We all greeted him warmly, he took was an alright engine, boasted about how special he was of being a 'one-of-a-kind' engine. Only to shut up after Eagle came in.

When Simon return to work two days later, he was painted blue with red stripes, with his new number on both sides of his tender. He kept quite, only for a few days. And when Alfred came out of Croven's Gate Works a week later. They remained their rude, boastful selves. The only thing different to them, is that they kept more to each other.

As for Henry, The Fat Director did predict something was wrong with him. The new green engine had trouble with steaming up some mornings. But it would only happen once or twice a fortnight, and when he isn't having trouble building up steam, well, he gave a punch to the mainline. But I shouldn't say anymore, cause after these three engines arrival, a lot of events began to happen for the next few years.


	6. Ep6: The Prototype

The grouping of the railways, took place on January 1st 1923, apart from the NWR, all railways in mainland Britain were grouped into four big companies. The GWR, was an exception, even though it only expanded it's railway. But three were named completely into new ones. The Southern Railway, also known as the SR. The London, Midland Scottish Railway, mainly known as the LMS, and the London, North Eastern Railway, know as the LNER. Even though the railways would cover the entirety of the United Kingdom. They would leave the North Western, and the North Eastern Railway. Who were on completely different islands. But I shouldn't go off topic with the history of the NWR. Or explain what the NER were. Otherwise it would ruin this story.

In the end, the big four did run much better than in smaller railways. Which was much better. But one day, a few months after the big four was formed. The Fat Director had a very surprising visit he wasn't expecting. He was at Vicarstown as usual, walking along the platform, seeing Simon puff into the station, backing slowly down on to his train. An inspector then walked quickly up to the director. The Fat Director raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," he said, "what is it?"

"Someone is in your office sir," replied the inspector, "someone important."

The Fat Director's brow furrowed. "Who on earth would that be?" he pondered to himself as he walked past the inspector and towards his office. He then opened the door abruptly, he then looked to the seat where guests would be and gasped.

He wasn't expecting to see the man who was on that seat. But it was. Sir Nigel Gresley.

The LNER's first chief mechanic, turned around to look at the stout gentleman and smile warmly. "Greetings Bertram," he said, "it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Indeed," replied The Fat Director, as he closed the door behind. He then began to walk around Gresley. "When was the last time? 1918 a month after the war?"

He than went around his desk and sat down on his own chair. Sir Nigel Gresley nodded. "Correct, I am dreadfully sorry for not keeping contact for these past few months. But I have been so busy with the grouping and all."

"I completely understand."

"And," Sir Nigel Gresley paused impressively, "and a new engine that will change the way trains will travel in Britain."

The Fat Director stared at the chief mechanic. Sir Nigel Gresley then pulled out a sheet from his case, and unfolded it out on to the desk. The Fat Director looked over, his eyes widen. A massive engine, completely different from any other our director has sawn currently in his life, was on the sheet.

"What a beautiful engine," exclaimed the director, "what class?"

"A prototype of what to come," explained Gresley, "I call it the A0. It has been built a few years ago. You must of seen it for the past few years it was in service?"

The Fat Director shook his head. "When did get into service?"

"In 1920," replied Gresley, "he is one of my best engines I've ever build. But there is problem."

"What is it?" asked The Fat Director.

"My engine is in danger," replied Sir Nigel Gresley, "because of it's success. The new version of this class will be made in Doncaster, called the A1. But the directors of the LNER don't think this engine would be useful anymore, so when the A1 Pacifics come into service, I'm afraid that it'll be the end for one of my greatest engines."

The Fat Director nodded and smiled warmly. "I'll be honoured to have this engine on my railway."

"Thank you Bertram."

"No Nigel, thank you."

*

"Who do you think is in there with the director?" asked Adam.

"Probably someone important," replied Roger, "I mean, they've been in there for quite some time now."

Just then, Henry pulled into the station with a passenger train. Roger was about to say something to him. When the door to The Fat Director's office flung opened and the two men walked out. When Sir Nigel Gresley looked up, he spotted Henry. His face went pale, his jaw dropped and his eyes went as wide as they could've do.

Henry looked over to Gresley and smiled, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Um... h-hello Mr Gresley sir," replied the green engine, "my name is Henry. North Western's number three."

Sir Nigel Gresley just stared at the engine. The Fat Director looked at Gresley with confused look on his face. "Nigel, anything the matter?" he asked.

Sir Nigel Gresley didn't speak for a moment, then turned to our director. "Bertram," he started, "why do you have an engine that looks just like the drawings that got stolen from in 1918?"

Both The Fat Director and Henry looked at Gresley in disbelief. "Y-you mean Henry, is the stolen engine?" asked The Fat Director.

"Oh yes," replied Gresley angrily, "explain yourself!"

"I brought him of a workshop in Britain," replied The Fat Director quickly, "he was cheap and I was in desperate need of engines."

Gresley nodded. Only calming down a bit. "Please Nigel," pleaded The Fat Director, "you must understand that I didn't know about this until now. Neither Henry didn't know."

Henry looked down at his buffers in shame. Adam and Roger looked at each other, wondering what would happen next and Sir Nigel Gresley clenched his fists. He then loosened them and took a deep breath and sighed.

"I see Bertram," he said, "I cannot be mad with you, after all, you are helping me save one of my finest engines."

The Fat Director smiled. Sir Nigel Gresley then picked up his suitcase off the ground. "Now Bertram," he smiled, "when does the next train go to Norramby?"

"Under ten minutes," replied The Fat Director, turning to Adam who had his Passenger right behind him.

"Good," replied Gresley, "you could come with me? Organise how my engine can get here."

"Indeed," chuckled The Fat Director, And the two climbed into one of Adam's first class coaches.

Adam and Roger then looked at Henry. "Are you alright there?" asked Roger. Henry didn't respond. When he was uncoupled from his train, he left for the sheds.

Roger sighed deeply. "Do you think he'll be alright?"

"Pah, who cares?" scoffed Adam.

Roger scowled at the radial tank and puffed away back to the sheds.

*

Roger tried to comfort Henry. But it was no use. Henry felt very ashamed of himself, but hid his feelings about being a stolen plan, in anger. I cannot remember what he kept saying that night in the sheds. But let's just say, Alfred and Simon decided to tease about it, making the situation worst. Eventually, both Roger and I shut them all up.

It was a week later when the new engine was due in, and Henry was more anxious and agitated then ever. He wouldn't calm, and that midday at Vicarstown, Thomas and I were trying to make less stressed.

"I-I-I mean, I'm a failure than ever! I didn't even realise that I was a hybrid between a Class C1 and an A0."

"Take it easy Henry," I said calmly, "the engine that is coming would be grateful to have a second chance in his career."

"Or she," butted in Thomas. I looked at him sternly.

"Well I mean, we don't know it's name or what it looks like," defended Thomas. I rolled my eyes and went back to calming Henry.

Then we heard a long, loud whistle. An unfamiliar whistle, coming from behind the us. Well, Henry and I were facing the other way, whilst Thomas was facing towards the way to the mainland. Thomas watched closely towards the line. Henry tensed up a bit, whilst I watched Thomas' face, waiting for a reaction.

"Well," I said, "it him-or she?!"

Thomas then smiled and looked back at us. "I think it is, and he looks amazing."

We then heard a loud puffing sound, and then the sound of wheels having their brakes applied. The puffing noice began to get slower and slower. Until a apple green engine came up next to us on another platform. The engine looked grand, and big. Bigger than any engine I've seen before. He smiled at us pleasantly.

"Hullo," he greeted kindly, "my name is Gordon. I'm here from the Great Northern Railway, well the LNER now. But still, built from the GNR and proud of it."

"Woah," said Thomas looking at Gordon up and down, "you look... you look-"

"Like the perfect design for the Doncaster Dawn Pacifics," interrupted Gordon proudly.

"Tell me Gordon, are you that A0?" I asked.

"What do you think I came here for?" chuckled Gordon. He then looked at Henry, and raised an eyebrow. "So you're that engine Sir Nigel Gresley told me before I left King's Cross."

Henry smiled nervously. "Y-Yes I am," he replied.

"Before you ask me, I don't blame you," replied Gordon quickly. Thomas and I looked at each other in shock. Henry's eyes widen too.

"W-what?" he exclaimed.

"I mean, you're drawings were stolen by someone who was jealous of Sir Nigel Gresley," continued Gordon, "you're hardly to blame because you had no control on what you are. Besides, Sir Nigel Gresley doesn't blame you either, and his opinion strengthens mine."

Henry's jaw dropped. "Th-thank you," he stuttered out, still trying to find words.

"Come on Gordon," said the A0's driver, "we need to get to the sheds, it's been a long trip."

"Indeed," smiled Gordon, "once again. It's nice meeting you chaps. Now I must be off to the sheds to get some rest."

Gordon then left his coaches at the station, leaving the three of us in a state of shock. It was a little while until Thomas broke the silence. "Well," he said, "he seems nice."

I smiled at Henry. "You see," I said, "nothing to worry about. Gordon completely understands you're case. And, with any luck doesn't go on to the wrong side with are fellow Alfred and Simon."

Thomas agreed. Whilst Henry, remained respectively quite.

*

Gordon was a very useful, he was faster than any other engine on the island, and the biggest too. When doing his test run to the board of directors and The Fat Director, he got up to a speed of 90 miles per hour, and let's just say that all the directors of the board agreed to keep him on. And that night in the sheds, The Fat Director came to see him.

Thomas, Eagle, Henry, Adam, Simon, Alfred and I were all there with the A0 as well. "Evening all," greeted our director.

"Evening sir," we all replied, almost in unison.

"So Gordon, I've been given the results of your test run from the board of directors. And let's say they were impressed."

Gordon looked down at his buffers bashfully.

"That is why, I'll be giving you the express for the future," smiled The Fat Director.

"W-what?!" exclaimed Alfred in shock, "but I'm the express engine, I deserve to keep the train!"

"Ever since you've been on this railway, you have been nothing but rude and arrogant," replied The Fat Director crossly, "I'm giving this train to Gordon so to keep this railway in tact and you intact as well. I'm sorry Alfred but because of the railway having no choice but to keep a modern image, and you're rude behaviour, I'm being forced to give it to Gordon. Besides, you've always liked the changes to the railway."

Alfred seethed quietly to himself. The director then turned to the big A0. "As for you Gordon," he said, "well done."

And with that, The Fat Director left. "What the director said," smirked Thomas, "great job!"

"Indeed," agreed Eagle, smiling widely.

"It's outrageous!" yelled Alfred.

"Calm down Alfred," groaned Simon.

"How can't I?" asked Alfred, almost going as red as Eagle's paintwork. "I just lost one of my jobs? My favourite one too!"

"I am sorry... Alfie was it?" asked Gordon.

"ALFRED!!"

Gordon stared at the blue tender engine in shock. Then looked at the engine. "You must be an LNER B12," he said, "fine engines you are."

Alfred frowned crossly. Whilst Henry sniffed. "Alfred is the complete opposite of what you just said."

"I beg your pardon?!" fumed Alfred.

"You heard me," smirked Henry teasingly, "you're a disgrace to your class and the railway you could've worked for."

Alfred growled crossly. He then looked over to Gordon and subsided. Much to our surprise. But we would find out why he would do that, the very next day...

When morning came, Gordon would take the express to Tidmouth, and back again. He then went to take a rest in a siding. He was about to fall completely to sleep when a blast of a whistle made him woke up in a start.

He looked over to see Alfred, on the points to his siding. "What are you doing," asked Gordon, raising one of his eyebrows to the blue tender engine.

Alfred gritted his teeth. "The express was mine," he said, "and you took it from me."

"You heard what the director said," replied Gordon, "and I'm sorry for it. But he doesn't want me to waste my time pulling those ugly things called trucks when I could show how fast and powerful I am with pulling the express."

"Is that suppose to be an insult to me?" exclaimed Alfred angrily.

"Maybe, now," said Gordon.

Alfred weeshed steam, but then sighed deeply and puffed backwards, Gordon sniffed crossly and closed his eyes. Then heard brakes being out on, he then heard Alfred's puffing noise again, but it was beginning to get faster. And louder.

Gordon opened his eyes to see Alfred bang into him. Making the big engine squeeze tightly into the buffers behind him. "Ouch!" he cried, he then looked into Alfred's eyes. Brown meeting blue.

"Why you bast-"

Gordon started to shunt Alfred away from him. And made the B12 shoot backwards. "How dare you!" cried Alfred and he attacked again.

Passengers in the station watched in interest as the two LNER engines bashed into each other. Aiming to see who would derail first. Eagle then came into the station to see what was going on. His jaw dropped and whistled loudly.

"Stop it! The pair of you!" he yelled at them.

Gordon looked over at the midland engine. He then looked back at Alfred and sighed deeply. "Get out of my way," he said.

"You don't give me order-"

"I wasn't asking nicely," interrupted Gordon. Alfred growled and puffed away. Gordon did the same, the opposite direction.

The Fat Director heard about the incident, and ordered Alfred and Simon to be stationed at Tidmouth for further uses. But before he did that, he gave very stern words to the two big engines.

Gordon promised not to make this mistake again in public. Alfred said nothing. Because of this incident, Gordon was sent to the works to get new buffers, after his were wrecked the most from the fight he had with Alfred. He was given square ones though, since they were the only ones there. He didn't like them at first, but was given a coat of bark blue paint with red stripes. That eased the big engine and went back to work two days later. Alfred would start to pull mix-traffic trains whilst Gordon pulled the express from Vicarstown, to Tidmouth. He was heavily praised for doing this in record time. He was that fast, that the timetable would change, just so he could take the train faster.

Sadly though, because of this success and praise. Gordon changed, he became a very arrogant and stubborn. All what Adam put it the best, a stuck-up express engine. But we would continue Gordon's story later. For the next one I will tell you, will change the lives of four engines, forever.


	7. Ep7: Samson's Fate

**A/N: Like to warn young readers, that this is rated 15 for mild language.**

—————————————————————————

It was year after Gordon had arrived to the railway. And it was a very eventful year, 1924 was. This year was the year where I wouldn't be use for quite a while. But there was a reason why this happened. I will explain it, but I must warn you, what I'm about to tell you, isn't a pleasant one. But then again, some of the future stories aren't either. But this is the story, about Samson.

Samson was based off of a bigger design of the Neilson box tank engine. But he was a very proud engine. He was very confident of himself, and spoke what he thought on the spot. This cause some his relationships with other engines on the railway, to not be good ones. One time, back on the TKELR, he accidentally took a train of coaches instead of trucks. He had almost got out on to the mainline before he was flagged down and was told off severely.

When the NWR opened in 1915, Samson was given the Kirk Ronan branch line, not for an award or anything. But so to keep the line running, and since the branch line didn't have much to go on, with only fish and passenger trains, Samson was a near perfect choice.

Samson took pride of being given the branch line all to himself. He didn't see the actual way of why got the branch line, he saw it the other way. One day, I was told to take a train of empty vans to Samson's junction. Eagle was waiting there too. The midland was suppose to leave with a supply of fish trucks placed on to his own goods train. Eagle was waiting patiently and was bothering anyone, but Samson is thought he was. He puffed up next the midland engine and wheeshed steam at him viscously.

"Oy!" exclaimed Eagle, "what was that for?"

"For being a twat," fumed Samson.

"Why am I being what you just called me?" asked Eagle crossly.

"Because you should be going by now," replied Samson, "you're 60 seconds late, leaving. So go and get out of my junction!"

Eagle was hurt, and puffed away to Tidmouth.

"He is so rude that engine," he said to his driver, "I don't know how the coffee-pot engines coped with him back before the NWR was opened."

"Who knows," sighs his driver, "but he must have good in him."

"I hope so," replied Eagle, "next time this happens, I don't know what to do."

The midland engine soon arrived at Tidmouth yard. He left his goods train in siding for Neil to look after and went to the coaling plant. There he saw Alfred and Simon.

"Hello you two," called Eagle to the pair of blue tender engines, as he came to a stop next to a coal bunker.

"What do you want?" sniffed Alfred.

"Woah, I'm just here to fill up with coal," smiled Eagle, "any harm in that?"

"Yes," snapped Simon.

"Simon," scolded Alfred, "he's here for coal. That is an excuse for now."

Simon rolled his eyes. Alfred then looked back at the midland engine.

"Tell me Eagle," he started, "how do you cope with pulling coaches more than trucks?"

"Well," pondered Eagle, "if I don't mind pulling them. So the more I pull trucks. The more you pull coaches, so it's win-win for all of us."

"More like a win for us," smirked Simon, "I mean, you might be scrapped by the end of the month."

"The Fat Director would never approve of that," scoffed Eagle, "he'll more likely send you away for being annoying."

"How dare you!" wheeshed Simon, angrily. "Never mock me, again. You pile of Midland-"

"Just because I worked in the midlands before coming here, doesn't mean I'm actually midland," interrupted Eagle, "I was built by the Furness and-"

"Shut up! You pile of Midland shit!"

"Simon!" whistled Alfred.

Simon looked over at Alfred. "What?"

"We are LNER engines here. We don't speak words of vulgar near the public! So put yourself together and set the example!"

Simon subsided. "Sorry, Alfred," he replied quietly. Alfred scoffed and puffed away. Eagle was still in a state of shock of what Simon had just said. Simon just looked the other way. Alfred meanwhile had picked up a passenger train at Tidmouth station and puffed out of the station.

"Idiot Simon," he muttered to himself. "LNER engines don't speak that way whatever the case. Not only does it forbid our laws, but it's just... just... ugh."

Alfred remained quite until he reached Knapford. There, an engine was waiting for him. But he looked very different from Alfred. He was very small and was coated red. His boiler was standing up and had the number one painted yellow on each side of ash box. With the words, TKEL above them and nameplates, saying Glynn, on them.

His old, brown eyes looked up at Alfred, from the other side of the platform, connecting one and two together. "Hello Alfred," he said politely, "how are you?"

"Alright," replied Alfred gruffly. Barely even looking at the old engine.

Glynn chuckled lightly. "What is it? Come on."

And Alfred explained about what Simon had said. By the time he had finished, Glynn looked shocked. "That is pretty serious," replied the coffee-pot, "are you going to tell the director about this?"

Alfred pondered for a second. "No," I replied, "I've told Simon off and I don't think he'll do it again."

"Alright, it's your's and Eagle's decision. Not mine," replied Glynn gravely.

"I mean, it's unprofessional. Saying those words, it isn't the way of the LNER."

Glynn chuckled. "You remind me Samson."

Alfred stared at Glynn, speechless. "I, remind you," he said slowly, "of Samson?"

Glynn smiled. "Only a bit."

"That is outrageous!" exclaimed Alfred. "Me and him aren't even alike!"

"Both of you are proud, over-confident and boastful, both are very rude to the other engines and you like to keep to yourself," butted in Glynn, "similarities are quite noticeable."

"Oh really?" scoffed Alfred. "Prove it?"

"None of you two are friends with the others."

Alfred opened his mouth to speak. But closed it again. He then closed his eyes for a few seconds, then reopened, his face going back to it's original state. Angered.

"We are not the same," he whispered to Glynn darkly, "and never will be."

They then heard a guard's whistle. "Come on boy," called Alfred's driver, "time to go!"

"Good bye Glynn," said Alfred, as he puffed out of the station.

"See you soon," replied Glynn, and he watched the now renamed B12 puff away with his passenger train into the distance.

*

A few hours later, Simon was puffing along the mainline with a goods train, he had to take it to Vicarstown, but had to stop at Kellsthorpe to get pick up some trucks there. He couldn't help but think on what Alfred has said, and his reaction to them words.

"LNER engines indeed," he muttered to himself, "we were never even there when the grouping happened.

He then puffed into Kellsthorpe yard. "But then again," he continued, "he is right, the grouping of the big four did start being planned when we came here. So technically, we were in the same rail-"

"Oi! What are you muttering about?!"

Simon jumped and looked over to see Samson, shunting some trucks into a siding. Simon grumbled. "Oh," he said, "it's you."

"Yes," scoffed Samson, "obviously me."

"Whatever, now where are my trucks?"

"What's the magic word?"

"Shut up and tell me."

Samson smirked fell and was replaced with a scowl. "You better watch your tongue, you pompous, big ego, copycat!"

"Yeah, you keep-" he then trailed off, "what was the last thing you called me?"

"A copycat," replied Samson smugly, "why do you ask?"

"Because how am I?"

"Well isn't it obvious," smiled Samson, "you always do what Alfred. Say what Alfred says. You always agree with him."

"That isn't true," defended Simon.

"Really?" smirked Samson. "Think about Simon. You're his pet."

Simon began to think about. Samson's smirk became wider and he puffed away to collect Simon's trucks. Once he did and shunted them on to the train. Simon took his leave.

"See you later. Pet!" laughed Samson.

Simon didn't respond. He was too busy thinking about what Samson has just said. "I'm a pet. I'm a pet," he muttered. "I'm Alfred's pet!"

Simon didn't say anything for the rest of the day. He just stayed away from us and would stare as us viscously if we would come to close. That night, it began to rain. But Simon stayed outside of the sheds. The others looked at him with confused expressions.

"What is he doing?" asked Adam.

"Probably thinks he can get a free wash down in the rain," joked Gordon.

"Why does he think that?" asked Henry. "It would only ruin his paint!"

"Now, that's ridiculous," scoffed Adam, "a few spots of water won't wreck your paint!"

"Pah," scoffed Henry, "I knew you wouldn't care Adam. You never care about anything!"

Whilst an argument began to rise at the sheds. Alfred came up next to Simon. "You here that?" chuckled the B12, "the sound of idiots. What do you think of that Simon?"

Simon didn't respond.

"Simon? Simon!"

Simon thoughts were cut off and he looked to his left, were Alfred was next to him. "Oh, sorry Alfred," replied Simon, "I was just... thinking about something."

"You clearly were," said Alfred, slightly annoyed, "what were you thinking about anyways?"

"Oh I was thinking about... Samson."

"Ugh," scoffed Alfred, "you had a fight with him today."

"...Yes."

"Stuck-up idiot," murmured Alfred under his breath. "Well when your done, thinking about him. Come into the sheds, I want to shut those two brats up, and I need a second buffer to help me."

Alfred then backed down to the sheds. "Oi, will you two shut it!" he yelled.

Simon rolled his eyes, he then looked up at the sky. Rain still pelted down to the ground. He thought for a few moments. Closed his eyes and took a deep, heavy sigh, he then reopened his eyes and looked back up to the sky. "I'm not his copycat. I'm not his pet. Not anymore. I'll show that Samson, and I'll show that Alfred too. I'll show them all."

He then smirked and back down into the shed next to Alfred. By then Edward had came into the shed and with the help of Gordon had shut Henry, Adam and Alfred all up. After Eagle, Thomas and Roger came back to the shed, the engines began to fall asleep. But whilst everyone slept. Simon began planning, on showing the railway, how he really is.

*

The next morning, Simon got up early than the others and went to the yard. When the others began to wake up, Simon had already return, and was taking on water at the tower.

"He's up early," snorted Gordon.

"Good," smiled Henry, "he can take the first passenger train of the day for me then."

Roger rolled his eyes. "Edward," he called to me. And I responded with a, "yes."

"You need to take a goods train after midday, The Fat Director told me this and reschedule the your other services. Is that alright?"

"Yes," I replied kindly, "that'll be fine."

"Good," smiled Roger, "now excuse me. I need to go and arrange some other goods trains."

He then puffed out of the shed. "Roger!"

Roger looked over to the blue tender engine and groaned. "What is it Simon?"

"Edward's train you just mentioned to him. What train comes after him?"

"I believe Alfred with a passenger service. He would be predicted to arrive at Tidmouth thirty minutes after Edward. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I'm going to Cronk light engine after my crew's lunch break, so to pick up at goods train. I'll go after Alfred."

"Oh, I see," replied Roger, "well be careful. Samson will be taking a goods train up to Cronk too, right after Alfred has gone by. So you might have to wait here longer."

Simon groaned. "Great," he muttered. Roger said no more as he puffed away to the yard.

*

It was few hours until I was due to take the goods train to Tidmouth. But soon, I was backing down on to the train. I was coupled up to it and puffed out of the yards. I puffed down the tracks, making good progress. I then puffed past Kellsthorpe, there I saw Samson and Eagle in the yard. Voices raised loud as ever. I sighed and continued on. Whilst Eagle and Samson continued on with their argument.

"Why can't you ever understand, oh so Soaring Eagle, that you should leave on time with your trains, especially when it has to do with my yard. I would get blamed for otherwise!"

Eagle groaned. "Alfred is held up at the work's station," he explained, more frustrated with the tank engine. "I can't go anywhere!"

"Why can't you? There are too lines aren't there?"

"If I go on to the mainline, I could hold up Alfred even longer if the issue is solved and I haven't gone past him yet. I have to wait here. Passengers, get more priority over goods."

"Oh yeah, whatever," scoffed Samson.

Then, the yard foreman came up to the two engines. "Alfred is still held up at Crovan's Gate," he explained, "Samson, you are allowed to take your train on. Be quick now!"

Samson smirked and looked up at Eagle. "Passengers get higher priority than goods you say?"

"Oh fuck off Samson," snapped Eagle, "ever since you've first met me. You have been nothing but mean to me. Now go away, and take that ugly sound which you call a voice."

Samson was speechless, Eagle had never said anything like that to him before. "What did I just say?" fumed Eagle. "Go away, you freak of an engine, and go fall off that viaduct whilst you're at it!"

Samson puffed away. Eyes widened and jaw almost opening wide. Eagle's driver watched Samson and his train disappear and then turned to his engine. "You feel alright?" he asked.

"To be honest," replied Eagle, after a seconds pause. "I really don't know."

*

Meanwhile, I was puffing up Maron Hill wit my goods train. "Come on, come on, come on," I panted to the trucks. The trucks groaned and moaned, but I took no notice. I was too busy trying to get to the top. But what happened next, was shocking for the crew and I.

One truck's coupling was groaning loudest of all, and before I could reach the top of the hill. The coupling broke and half of my train stopped and began going back down the hill, picking up speed as it went down.

"Bust my buffers!" I cried. "We must go after them!"

My driver agreed and immediately pulled the lever so I could we reverse after them. But by the time I was puffing back down the hill, the other half of my train was already going over my top speed. The guard tried to the break but it was useless against the trucks.

"On on on on!!" screamed the trucks, and banging their buffers, they knock the guard off his feet inside the brake van. Making him break his wrist in the process.

The guard knew that he couldn't stop break the train with one hand and when the runaway began to run along next to Cronk Canal, he jumped off his brake van and into the water below. He could swim and manage to get back on to dry land, so it was a relief and he whilst he was being treated by a nearby boatsman, he watched me as he rushed after my train of trucks.

Meanwhile, Samson was puffing down the mainline on the same track as the runaway. He was unaware of this and busy thinking what Eagle had said to him.

Then, when he got to the viaduct his crew began to hear something up ahead. The driver looked further down the viaduct, to see part of my train heading straight towards them. "Dear god!" cried Samson's driver, "reverse Samson! Reverse!"

But Samson wasn't concentrating and didn't pay attention. He just kept going across the viaduct, whilst the trucks came closer. "SAMSON!"

At that, Samson was cut from his thoughts and looked up to see the trucks coming straight towards him. He gasp, but by the time he responded to his driver's wishes. It was too late...

*

I heard the crash, and I feared the worst. When I got to the viaduct a few minutes later, my driver quickly applied the brakes and I came to a stop. My crew got down from the cab, and looked over to the crash, right in the middle of the viaduct. They then looked down.

"Oh god," murmured my fireman, and my driver walked back to my cab and sat down.

"What?" I asked. "What is it?"

My crew didn't respond for a few seconds. Then finally, my fireman spoke. "The train, he crashed into another."

My eyes widened. "We Alfred didn't we," I said.

"No... Samson."

I looked at down at my fireman, then to the edge of the viaduct. Listening, the sound of steam hissing came from the bottom of the valley and I closed my eyes. Trying to hold back the tears.

*

When news about the accident was heard. All trains on the mainline were halted and Henry was ordered to take the breakdown train there, whilst I was ordered to go back to Cronk with the remainder of my train. I was in clear shock from the hole thing. Eagle soon came to Cronk with The Fat Director. My crew and I asked on what happened.

They told us that Samson hit the train and was knocked over the side of the viaduct and had smashed to pieces. His crew didn't survive either, and their bodies were found under the remains of Samson and a few trucks. The brake van on my train didn't survive either, he was crush in by Samson and his face, barely recognisable.

The wreckage was cleaned up throughout the night. Henry taking the trains full of scrap to Wellsworth, where Whiff or Emily would take the train the rest of the way too Suddery Stealworks Co.

Eagle felt guilty. He was the last engine to see him intact and was rude to him. Alfred was clearly in shock from the hole ordeal as well, clearly if he hadn't been delayed at the works station, he would've been Samson. The accident was hidden up and records claimed that The Fat Director had sent Samson to the Suddery Stealworks Co. to be scrapped there. That excuse went well, and two nights later, The Fat Director went to Vicarstown sheds to check on his engines.

"How are you all?" he asked.

"Not well to be honest sir," replied Adam.

"I understand," replied The Fat Director.

"Did the crew have families sir?" asked Thomas.

"The driver, Edgar Jeffreys, was a husband," replied The Fat Director.

I trembled, clearly The Fat Director saw this and smiled at me. "It wasn't your fault Edward," he said warmly, "a faulty coupling was at fault. Don't blame yourself."

"But I do sir," I replied sadly.

The Fat Director stood there for a second, deep in thought. "I think it's best," he started, "that you stay in the shed for now. You can tell me when you're ready to come out."

"Y-Yes sir," I replied.

The Fat Director nodded and then turned to Alfred and Simon. "You too," he said, "a goods train and a passenger service is starting at Tidmouth in the morning. I need you both to go light engine there tonight please."

"Yes sir," replied Simon, and he puffed off. Alfred stayed put.

"Alfred?"

"Sorry sir, it's just, that could've been me."

The director nodded solemnly. "If you want to talk about this, you can come to me."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," replied Alfred, and he puffed away, after Simon.

The Fat Director watched them leave, the turned back to the remaining engines. "I'm If this is coming to quick," he said, "but I need an engine to replace Samson on the Kirk Ronan branch. Any volunteers?"

"I'll do it sir," called out Eagle.

The Fat Director started at Eagle, surprised by how quick he did it. "Why?"

"Because I was the last engine to have seen him alive," responded Eagle, "and I was rude to him. I want to pay respect to him and work on his branch line. Plus, I've worked on before!"

The midland engine chuckled nervously. The Fat Director nodded. "I see," he said, "tomorrow you'll go there and start your new job. Like I said to Alfred, if you feel any regret or remorse, I am here to listen."

And with that, The Fat Director walked away.

*

Alfred puffed down the mainline, thinking about what had happened. He then began to think on Glynn had told him. "Driver," he said, "when we get to Knapford, can we stop there. I want to talk to the coffee-pot engine."

"Understood," came the reply. A few minutes later, they arrived. Alfred came to a stop near the station. Right on the other side of him, was Glynn in his shed. Wide awake.

"Ahh," smiled the coffee-pot, "I thought you might want to see me."

"Yesterday," started Alfred, "you said that Samson and I were quite similar. And the next day, Samson died. But he died, because he was aloud to take his train to Cronk whilst I was held."

Glynn looked at the B12 with a raised brow. "He died, when I was suppose to," finished Alfred.

Glynn didn't say anything. "What does this mean?" cried Alfred.

Glynn pondered on his words. "I think," he replied, "I think that this is a warning to you. I didn't say you and Samson were the same. But were similar, and you were going to become him. This is a warning, to tell you that you can change and become a different engine."

"How? Why do you know this?"

"I don't really know. But for some reason, life wanted you more than Samson. That, I believe is reason to change."

Alfred thought about this. Glynn smiled warmly. "Have you gotten anymore answers?"

Alfred didn't say anything. He just puffed away.


	8. Ep8: Whiff

It had been two months after Samson's death. I was still in the shed, Eagle was now working on Kirk Ronan branch, and Simon was now transferred to Tidmouth. The railway was quite depressed, even though Samson wasn't anyone's friend. He was an engine that worked with us and always got the work done. But I should stop talking about him now. We should start talking about this story instead.

You all must've heard the famous children rhyme.

Once an engine, attach to a train,

Was afraid of a few drops of rain,

It screech through it's funnel,

Went into a tunnel,

And wouldn't come out again.

You obviously know who I'm talking about, Henry. The green engine had been polished after he didn't fail to steam up for a fortnight. This made him vain and made sure that his paint wouldn't get ruined by anything. Even rain. He did go into a tunnel and wouldn't come out again and that caused problems.

"Come on Henry!" pleaded his driver.

"Why should I?" asked Henry crossly. "If I go out into the rain. My paintwork would get ruined."

"What nonsense," fumed the fireman, "you've worked in rain before."

"Yes," replied Henry, "but The Fat Director has put effort into making my paintwork spotless, and it will not be ruined by rain."

The passengers started complaining a few minutes later. The guard then came out of his break coach, with his whistle and green flag. He then began to whistle his whistle until he had breath, and wave his green flag until his arm ached. But Henry only blew steam at him.

"If I'm not moving for my crew," he stated, "I'm not going to move for you."

And he didn't. When The Fat Director heard about Henry, he ordered for his car and told the driver to take him to the tunnel. He was soon there in ten minutes, with rain still pelting the ground and the crew and guard arguing with the number three.

"What is the meaning of this Henry?" asked the stout gentleman, as walked towards them.

"Sir Topham!" exclaimed Henry's driver. But before he could say anything else The Fat Director waved him down.

"Please Mr Field," he interrupted, "I know it isn't your fault. Or Mr Green, or Mr Smith."

The crew and guard nodded. The Fat Director then turned to Henry. "Come on Henry!" he ordered. "Get out of the tunnel!"

"But sir!" exclaimed Henry

"No buts!" snapped The Fat Director. "This is an order."

Henry rolled his eyes. "I'm not moving."

The Fat Director and Henry argued for a few more minutes. Until The Fat Director gave up. "Mr Smith," he informed, "can you send a message to Kellsthorpe and order for Eagle to come here?"

"Yes sir," replied the guard and ran back to the brake coach.

Meanwhile, Eagle was shunting in the yards at Kellsthorpe when an inspector came up to him and his crew. "Number three has stuck himself inside the tunnel near Ballahoo and won't come out. The director has ordered you and your engine to go and push him out."

"Alright," replied Eagle's driver, "come on old boy. Let's get an engine out a tunnel!"

"And always thought Henry would do something about not going out in the rain. But not like this," murmured Eagle to himself. And he puffed away.

He soon reached the tunnel, where Henry was stuck in. The Fat Director was waiting for him. "Thank you for coming," he said.

"Don't worry sir," replied Eagle confidently, "we'll get him out."

He then called down the tunnel. "Henry!" he called. "Stop this nonsense!"

"Save your steam Eagle," called back Henry, "it's no use pushing me out!"

Eagle rolled his eyes. "Is there any passengers on the train?" he asked.

"Buses have collected the passengers to take them the rest of the way," replied The Fat Director, "You only need to concentrate on pushing Henry out of the tunnel and clearing the mainline."

Eagle wheeshed steam confidently. "I'll give it my best shot sir," he replied, and buffered up behind Henry and his train.

Eagle than began to push. He pushed and pushed and pushed. Sparks flew from all directions, the train looking like it was barely trying, but Eagle refused to give up. Then the train began to move a little. Henry felt his wheels turning and looked down to the ground to see the sleepers come closer to him. He realised that Eagle was stronger than he looked.

"Oh no you don't!" exclaimed the green engine, and he bashed into the coaches. Eagle felt the sudden push and jerked. He was surprised, then he heard a groaning noice and pain shot through him.

"Ouch!" he yelled and his driver applied the brakes. The Fat Director and men raised their brows as Eagle reverses away from the train. They soon found out why. Eagle's buffer beam was now slightly bent upwards, making him unable to use it.

The midland engine felt very embarrassed. The Fat Director was furious, he stormed his way back up the tunnel with his bodyguards, Henry's crew and the guard all following him. The Fat Director walked in front of the arrogant, green engine and pointed his finger at him.

"Henry!" he boomed. Henry looked down at him crossly. "Because of you, you have not only delayed your own train, but the entire mainline. Now you've pushed Eagle so hard, his front buffer beam is now bent. Meaning he will have to go to the works and get it mended. Leaving a branch line without an engine."

"Pff," scoffed Henry, "not my fault."

That was the last straw for The Fat Director. "That's it!" he exclaimed. "If you want to stay in the tunnel so much. You can stay in there! We'll build a wall in front and behind you. And will leave you here! For always, and always, and always!"

Henry scoffed, he thought that The Fat Director was bluffing. I was still in the shed, but Roger was ordered to send men and building material to the tunnel. I didn't know what was going on. Until Roger came back and explained everything to me.

I was in shock and so was Roger. He described what Henry's face looked like to me. Shocked and guilt building inside of him. He then left it at that, I then looked over to see The Fat Director walking up to me, with my own crew beside him.

"Edward," announced The Fat Director, "I know it has been rough for you for the past few months. But because of Henry now refusing on leaving the tunnel, I need an engine to help run the services. Can you be up for the challenge?"

"Yes sir!" I replied, after a second of pondering about it. "But sir. What will happen now? Because of Henry blocking the mainline now, we are disconnected to the other part of the mainline."

"That's why you've come in," replied The Fat Director, "the railway board and I have been making plans for this for a while, but we were thinking of making a new tunnel for that section of the mainline. It was suppose to be one track going through it, but I think now it'll be two."

"I see," I replied. I completely understood why The Fat Director would have planned this earlier. After all, that one tunnel only had one section of track going straight through it and with a two-tracked tunnel now, it'll make life a lot better on the mainline.

"Now," continued The Fat Director, "you and Roger will focus on one end of the tunnel. Whilst Neil and Whiff will do the other side."

"Whiff, sir?" I replied.

"Yes, is something wrong?" replied The Fat Director.

"No, no," I replied, "just a bit surprised you wanted Whiff on the job."

The Fat Director stared at me and nodded slowly. He then walked off, leaving me with my crew.

Now don't get me wrong, Whiff is a nice engine, and a hard worker. But he a... disability that was rare for engines. You see, Whiff was blind. He couldn't see anything at a short distance and this would cause a huge problem for the railway. He did his best, but would sometimes cause mishaps and sometimes accidents. In the end, after the opening of the NWR, he reallocated to the Brendam Branch with Clyde and Emily coming to join them two years later. Soon Whiff would become only used as a shunter at the docks, sometimes alone and blind. Some of the engines felt sorry for him, whilst some like Gordon and Simon gave him no mercy whatsoever.

When Whiff was ordered to help us build a new tunnel. He was excited. It was first time he would go back on to the mainline since the opening of the railway. And he wouldn't stop talking about.

"It will be fun!" he said to Emily the day we was off to the tunnel with Neil. "Good long distances to stretch my wheels and long, heavy trains as well!"

"Well it does sound fun," replied Emily.

"Oh it'll be!"

Simon then puffed into the station, pulling a passenger service. He then looked over at Whiff, he had only seen the tank engine before and was bemused by him. This was going to be the first conversation he would have with.

"Well, well, well," smirked the blue tender engine. "What do we have here?"

Whiff looked over at the engine. "Oh no," groaned Emily.

"You the brother of that Areolight? Aren't you?"

"Y-Yes," replied Whiff.

"Ha!" laughed Simon, "you two are failures of an engine. You can't even pull more trucks than Neil over there!"

Whiff and Emily looked over to see the box tank come in with a few trucks to head to the tunnel. Whiff sighed in embarrassment. Emily wheeshed steam crossly.

"I think you're being very hypocritical there Simon," she retorted.

Simon scoffed. "What on earth do you mean?"

"How's been late for the past few weeks, got stuck in a snowdrift and derailed at Vicarstown?"

Now it was Simon to crossly wheesh steam. "Those were accidents," he replied.

"So two engines that were built of the sand class in an accident? I can hardly believe that."

Before Simon could say anything else. His guard blew the whistle and Simon had no choice but to puff away. Whiff felt down.

"Don't listen to that youngster," puffed Neil, "he has always been like that. Heck he has even done it to Eagle!"

"Eagle?"

"Yes, don't let him get the better of you. You're stronger than him, and you forget."

Whiff smiled, he felt a bit better. But when he and Neil puffed on to the mainline and to the tunnel. He still couldn't get Simon's words out of his smokebox.

Whiff, Neil, Roger and I started work on the new tunnel on October 2nd 1924. We began on each end, digging away rocks and replacing them with bricks that made sure the hole would stay. Ballast, sleepers and then rails were slowly being put on, and soon by next week, we were halfway closer to each other on each end.

But one day, things began to go wrong.

Whiff was at Kellsthorpe, he was waiting for Eagle to bring some trucks that he needed to take to the tunnel. Eventually, the midland engine arrived.

"Ah Eagle!" smiled Whiff. "Brought some of my trucks on your train?"

"Yes," replied Eagle, "all of them are at the back of my train. So you don't to get a brake van, just bring it back here when you've done it."

"Understood," responded Whiff. Eagle's trucks were then uncoupled from Whiff's and he pulled out of the way. But much to the aerolite's shock, only nine trucks and a brake van was left.

"That many?" exclaimed Whiff.

"Yes," replied Eagle.

"B-But that's way too many!"

Eagle pondered. "You must try, I have a branch line to run and you must do your part on this railway with building that new tunnel," he replied, "The Fat Director believes you can do. Otherwise he wouldn't of ordered you to come and take these many trucks."

Whiff took in a deep breath and sighed. "Okay," he said, and puffed on to the track which had his trucks.

Whiff was soon coupled up and began to try and move the train. His wheels began to spin and spin, but eventually he got the train moving and he was off. "I'm doing it, I'm doing it, I'm doing it!" he exasperated.

Eagle smiled and watched as the aerolite engine puff away. Whiff was making progress down the line. He was getting out of breath, but he then saw the tunnel. He sighed in relief. 'I can stop and have a rest here,' he thought.

Danger points, aren't usually used on the mainline, they are mainly used on branch lines. You might know what they are. But to make sure, I'll explain them to you. If there is a runway, the signalman will switch them and make you go off the rails, causing a less harmful accident. The signalman has to be sure if he has to do it, otherwise if he doesn't switch the danger points, there could be an even more harmful accident. The first Ballahoo tunnel had danger points on each end since it only had one track going through it, and was still there.

When Whiff got to the tunnels, his driver then applied the brakes. But when Whiff began to stop the train, the trucks banged into the aerolite engine. Whiff was shocked. "Stop! Stop!" he cried. But it was no good.

The driver blasted Whiff's whistle with the emergency code. Notifying Neil, the workmen and the signalman. Quickly, the signalman changed the points on to the other line which lead to the other tunnel, there, the signalman changed the danger points and Whiff came off the rails with a thud. He then skidded across the grass and hit the fence, coming to a stop a few yards later in a field.

Luckily, his crew was fine. Only getting bruises in the accident. But Whiff was dirty and off the rails. He was in shock, and when he'll arrived they took Whiff to the works. He stayed there for about a week. But soon, he able to come out again, on a wet, windy day.

When he did, Clyde was waiting for him. "Hullo Whiff!" he called.

"Hello Clyde," replied Whiff glumly.

"What's the matter?" asked Clyde, concerned for the aerolite.

"Oh I don't know," sighed Whiff, "it's probably because I had my accident and..."

"And what?"

"...Simon told me I was a failure."

"Oh please," scoffed Clyde, "Simon says to that to every engine. Henry nearly every time he sees him. You mustn't let him get the better of you."

"That's what Emily said."

Clyde rolled his eyes. "I need you to take some empty wagons back to the tunnels. Do you think you can do that?"

"I think."

"That's good," replied Clyde, "now hurry it up. I'm not taking them."

Whiff responded to Clyde's orders and puffed off to fetch them. He came to a siding were the wagons were waiting for him. He buffered up and was coupled to the train. He waited a few minutes and when it was time for him to leave, he gave a great heave. Like I said, it was a rainy day, and Whiff wasn't good in rain, so his wheels just spun on the wet rails. Whiff gasped for a second, and tugged on the train once again. But the trucks only moved an inch.

"Come on, come on!" muttered Whiff. Suddenly the coupling broke and Whiff Shut forwards. He was most surprised and came to a holt a few yards away from his train. He then heard laughing, and through the rain, he could make out Simon puffing towards the station.

"Oh dear Whiff!" he laughed. "I knew you weren't reliable. Not one bit!"

Whiff sighed sadly. Whiff's coupling was now broken so he couldn't pull the train. So Clyde was ordered to it. Much to his frustration. Soon, The Fat Director came to see the aerolite.

"Hullo Whiff," smiled The Fat Director warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Not good to be honest sir," came the reply.

The Fat Director nodded. "I know that you haven't the best week. But don't let that down."

"But it has sir," interrupted Whiff, "and before you came to visit me. I had my own thoughts."

"And what's that?"

"Retirement, Sir."

The Fat Director looked shocked. But Whiff couldn't see him for he couldn't see properly in shot distance, so he continued. "I'm NER 66 Class sir," he said, "I cannot do work like the others, and it's even worst when I'm blind. I cannot cope the work anymore. I get aches in my smokebox when I try and focus on things at short distance, and I can't even pull a proper goods train like Colin or Lily. This is my decision sir, and I don't think I can change it."

The Fat Director nodded. "I understand," he replied, "and accept your retirement. But I think I've got an idea that won't put you out of retirement fully."

Whiff looked puzzled. "What do you mean sir?" he asked.

"Wait and see," smiled The Fat Director, And he walked away.

The next day, our director returned to the works to see Whiff again. But this time, with a visitor. "Whiff," said The Fat Director.

"Yes sir," replied Whiff.

"This man next to me," started The Fat Director, "is the current Earl of Sodor. Sir Charles Henry Norramby."

Whiff gasped. "Sir! It is an honour to met you. In a matter of speaking, technically."

Sir Charles chuckled. "I've been told by your controller that you want to retire. Is that correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, your controller has offered me a deal that I can buy you."

"Buy me sir?"

"Indeed," chuckled the Earl.

"You will be stationed on a small little line, that runs right next to my manor at Ballahoo. You will not be used as much as you would on the North Western. But you will be treated daily and-"

"I'll take it sir!" smiled Whiff.

"Good," smiled Sir Charles Norramby, "but I haven't finished yet."

He paused impressively. "Your controller has told that you are blind. I want to fix that. So by tomorrow, I will order a manufacturing company in Ireland to make you a special pair of glasses and will install it on you."

"Oh sir!" gasped Whiff. "Please l, you shouldn't do that to me!"

"I can and I will," smiled Sir Charles, he then turned to The Fat Director. "Can I sign the forms then?"

"Absolutely," smiled The Fat Director, "in a few hours he will be yours."

"Great!" beamed the Earl, and walked off. The Fat Director then turned to Whiff.

"I'm going to miss you working on my Railway," he said.

"And so will I sir," smiled Whiff.

"So long Whiff," beamed The Fat Director, "it has been an hour to be your director."

"And it was an honour being one of your engines sir," replied Whiff. The Fat Director nodded and walked away.

Whiff was brought from the Norramby family and was immediately sent to Ballahoo Manor. There, was a small line, a shed, a station and a huge manor behind it all. Whiff settled in nicely, he was then given his very own coach, van, and break van. He remained in his old SM livery and is kept maintained daily.

A month later, his glasses arrived, and he was sent to Crovan's Gate to have them fitted. He came out of the works with his glasses and saw the world in a hole new way. He couldn't contain himself. All of us (apart from Simon) were all very happy for him, even Gordon was pleased to see him well.

But nobody was more shocked, when Alfred complimented his glasses. Whiff felt flattered, whilst me, Neil and Adam's jaw almost dropped to the floor. I guess change can come to the most stubborn engines.

The new tunnel was soon finished a few days after Whiff was sold off. We were very proud of our work, and Gordon was the first to thunder through it on December 3rd 1924. I'm January, Henry was let out again, and with the old tunnel being thoroughly checked over. It was soon announced sustainable and soon, two tunnels were now in use.

As for Neil, Roger and I. Well, both Roger and Neil went back to their original status. Whilst I was given the offer of running the Brendam Branch with Emily. I obviously excepted and soon began taking goods train on it, whilst Emily passengers. But a few months later, the work got too much for the stirling single, and she retired. She was preserved by some rail enthusiasts and was sent to Tidmouth to be put on display in a museum. We wouldn't see her for the next few decades, and I was left alone on the branch line. But luckily I coped and manage to operate the line alone until 1965.

But I think I've done taking about myself for now. Because the next two stories would be adapted into the books about ourselves and would become the most famous book of them all. Even though you think you might know what will happen. Some of the stories, aren't fully accurate to what they really are.


	9. Ep9: Seeing the World

Thomas the Tank Engine was grumbling to the other engines. "I spend my time pulling coaches about ready for you to take out on journeys."

The others engines laughed.

"Why can't I pull passenger trains too?"

"You're too impatient," they said, "you'd be sure to leave something behind."

"Rubbish," said Thomas, "I'll show you."

I wasn't there when that happened. But it had been a very long time since the last time Thomas was allowed to head out of Vicarstown. He was getting very annoying, very quickly. He complained from morning 'till night. The coaches would get very annoyed, saying to the bigger engines how he was being repetitive with the same complaint. After Whiff and Emily came out of service, this left us all in rush. Eagle and I had been placed on to branch lines from the past few months, and only Adam and Roger could defend the cheeky tank engine from engines such as Gordon, Henry and Alfred. And sadly, it didn't work very often.

"Just leave the young engine alone," said Roger crossly.

Gordon sniffed. "I'm sure you would understand Roger," he said in a snotty manner, "that we aren't attacking you. But telling you the truth about this E2."

"Oh shut up," snapped Adam, "he's better than you."

"Than pulling coaches!" laughed Gordon.

"No, he'll probably go straight to work with trucks, whilst you would moan and moan like a human five-year-old."

Gordon seethed in anger. "Let me tell you-"

"Oh shut up," came a reply, "I'm not feeling too well and my smokebox is aching too much to listen to you all argue. Now please shut up for one night!"

The engines all went quite. "Pff," scoffed Alfred quietly to no one in particular. "It's not like he joins with us too."

"So you emit that you try and belittle-"

"Did I ever say that?" interrupted Alfred, "now leave me alone Roger and let an engine sleep."

That's what they did. Only Thomas and Henry were awake. "Henry," whispered Thomas.

"What?"

"If you're ill, can I take your first train tomorrow?"

Henry stared weakly at the blue tank engine for a while. "Maybe," he smiled, "depends on if I'm up to it. If the men work hard that is."

Thomas smiled broadly and went to sleep. Secretly excited. The next morning, Henry was still ill, it was almost time for the first passenger service of the day. Usually for people wanting to go to work at Croven's Gate, Suddery and Tidmouth. When Thomas was ready, he puffed off impatiently.

"Woah Thomas!" called his driver, "calm down, we have plenty of time!"

Thomas groaned and slowed down a bit, just to make his driver feel a bit more comfortable. He soon found the coaches. "Come along Now, come along now," he said, banging into them.

"There's plenty of time, there's plenty of time," grumbled back to the coaches. Thomas soon pulled them out of the coach shed and took them to the platform. He wanted to go around the train and couple up to the train as quickly as possible, but his driver wouldn't let him. "Don't be impatient Thomas!" he said sternly.

Thomas did reluctantly. The passengers soon arrived at the platform at got on to the train. The doors were soon shut tight, the guard soon came out of the brake coach with green flag and whistle. But Henry didn't arrive. Thomas was getting more and more excited.

Soon, The Fat Director stepped out of his office. "What is going on? Where's Henry?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry sir," replied the stationmaster, "but number 3 is still ill, the men over there are trying there best. But they say they won't get number 3 any better before this train."

"Find another engine!" demanded The Fat Director.

"There's no other engine available," replied the stationmaster, "only one..."

All of them slowly turned to see Thomas smiling broadly at them. "No!" said The Fat Director quickly, "sorry but Thomas is too inexperienced to handle trains."

"But I've pull trucks before!" protested Thomas.

"Yes," said The Fat Director, "but not coaches."

"Sir, with all do respect," started Thomas' driver, "if Thomas doesn't pull this train. It won't go anywhere."

The Fat Director looked at the driver, then at the train, then to Thomas, pleading with his face. He then put his fingers on his temple, and shook his head. "You'll have to do it then Thomas," he said, "get to the front of the train now."

Thomas was very excited indeed. He was quickly uncoupled from the brake coach and went around to the front train as fast as possible. But his driver held him back.

"Remember Thomas," he said, "be patient."

But Thomas wasn't listening and backed down on to the train. What happened next, no one really knows. No engine was really there when it happened. Some people blame the crew for not coupling Thomas to the train, some say that guard blew his whistle too early, or that Thomas was too impatient to wait for anything. But Thomas began to start out of the station without the train behind him. The coaches and passengers were left, stranded on the platform. Men from a nearby signal box came out of the building and waved and shouted at the tank engine. But Thomas couldn't heat them.

'They're waving at me because I'm such a splendid engine,' thought Thomas proudly. He puffed away down the line.

By the time Thomas and his crew found and got back to the station. The train was half-an-hour late. The passengers were all complaining to The Fat Director on what a bad railway he was running. But when they saw Thomas and how sad he looked, they all stopped complaining and clambered back into the coaches. This time, the fireman coupled Thomas up to the train and the tank engine actually pulled it.

Thomas was only allowed to go up to Kellsthorpe, where Simon was waiting for him. Thomas came in wheezing hard. Simon smirked.

"Late Thomas?" he asked rhetorically, "I wondered what happened?"

"Oh... shut up," panted Thomas, as he was uncoupled and moved out of the way and into the yard for Simon. When Simon buffered up to the train, he looked over at Thomas who was still worn out.

"Get back to the station quickly now," he ordered, "Alfred is coming through with a passenger service and will need you to shunt his coaches when he gets to Vicarstown."

With that, the blue tender engine puffed away. Thomas rolled his eyes and when he court up with breath, he reversed out of the yard and back on the mainline, back to Vicarstown.

*

"Oh look! There's Thomas! An engine who wanted to pull a train but forgot about the coaches!"

Henry laughed at Gordon's remark, Alfred trying his hardest to not chuckle. Even Adam chuckled a bit. Thomas sighed deeply as he puffed into the shed. "Be quite," he snapped.

"Or what?" sniggered Gordon, "you bump us so hard that you'll knock yourself off the rails!"

Henry chuckled with the big engine. Thomas growled angrily. "Well at least I'll try! Unlike you tender engines! Moaning about even going into a siding where your coaches are!"

"How dare you-"

"Oi! What's going!"

The bigger engines look over to a tank engine, almost the same size as Thomas backing down into the sheds, between Alfred and the tank engine. He looked like a LBSC E4 design but with a slightly larger boiler than the usual E4s. His paintwork was black with no stripes and S.R.F. on each side of his tanks and the number 1 on his bunker.

Thomas has never seen him before, but from the looks from the other engines, you should guess that they knew him otherwise. The E4 came to a gentle stop next to Thomas and Alfred and looked at the three tender engines.

"What are you three doing?" he asked sternly.

"Well-uh... well-"

"I'll tell you what you're doing," interrupted the E4, "this was the first time this engine has pulled passenger train and he just made a mistake. We don't even know if it was his fault or not!"

The three tender engines looked down to their buffers, and wisely subsided. Adam than spoke up. "What are you doing here Matthew?" he asked, "I thought you were based at the fort."

"Oh, I still am," replied the E4, "I'm just here to take a goods train to Wellsworth in the morning."

"I see," smiled Adam, "did The Fat Director ask you personally to do this?"

"Indeed, I'm not needed as much at the fort as I use to be," smiled the E4, "it would be a nice change. To pull a goods train meant for civilians."

He then looked over at the tank engine next to him. "It's... Thomas, isn't it?" he asked.

Thomas looked up from his buffers. "How do you know my name?"

"Many engines from your yard come to the fort I'm stationed at," replied the E4, "I've been told a lot about you, plus your little mishap today has gone all over the island by now."

"Oh," said Thomas.

The E4 smiled gently. "I don't think I've introduced myself," he said enthusiastically, "my name is Matthew."

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Matthew," replied Thomas with small smile coming across his face.

The two engines talked a bit, and when Roger came into the sheds, the other engines began to fall asleep. Only Thomas and Matthew were still awake. Then Matthew whispered something to Thomas.

"Have you ever gone past Crovan's Gate before?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," replied Thomas, "only today though and I've only gone up to Kellsthorpe."

Matthew pondered on this. "Tell you what," he said, "if you take my train to Wellsworth, I'll shunt coaches for you."

"R-really?" asked Thomas in shock.

"Indeed," smiled Matthew, "if both our crews agree, I'll take you to the train and explain the details."

"Th-thank you very much," replied Thomas and he went happily to sleep.

*

The engines woke up the next morning and when their drivers came they explained their plans.

"I'm fine with it," replied Thomas' driver, "I've been down the mainline to Tidmouth before, so I can do it."

Thomas and Matthew then turned to the war engine's crew. The driver sighed. "Just make sure you get back here on time," he said.

Thomas whistled excitedly. "I'm finally going to pull a train!"

"Calm down," chuckled Matthew, "now come on, I'll explain the details."

Matthew then puffed off and Thomas quickly followed.

"Now," started the war engine, "trucks are silly and noisy. They will come along as long you treat respectively. If you bump them with no reason why they are misbehaving, they'll pay you out."

Matthew continued to explain trucks and how to pull them whilst Thomas followed. At last they found where the trucks were and Thomas quickly puffed to the front of the train. Noah watched with interest. Thomas then backed into them roughly.

"Oh oh oh!" screamed the trucks. Matthew cringed.

"Sorry," said Thomas to Matthew.

"It's... alright," sighed Matthew, "I forgot to tell you that you have to buffer up to them like coaches."

Thomas smiled in response. "I can't believe it," he exclaimed, "I'm going to pull a train!"

"And so am I."

Both tank engines watched in surprise as I back down next to Matthew. "Now what are you doing?" I asked sternly. "Matthew, why is Thomas on your train?"

And Matthew explained. By the time he had finished I wasn't impressed. "Thomas needs training Matthew. He can't just go off with a train that has pulled on his own before."

Matthew smiled. "Don't worry Edward," he said, "I've told Thomas the basics. He'll be fine. After all, I had to give a young engine, fresh out of works, a talking about pulling explosive vans in the front lines only a few seconds before he had to leave with them."

"Did he make it?" I asked.

"...Only just."

I groaned. But before I could say anything to Thomas, the guard blew his whistle. Thomas had saw his chance to escape me and jolted forward. "Oh oh oh oh!" screamed the trucks, "Wait Thomas, Wait!"

But Thomas didn't. "Come on, come on, come on!" he called to the trucks. The trucks did angrily. Only Matthew and I could do was watch, as the tank engine puffed out on to the mainline, and out of site.

I then looked at Matthew, even more angry than before. Matthew just looked on. "I have a feeling he wasn't listening to me," he said, and then looked at me. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

Meanwhile, Thomas was having a wonderful time. "Peeeep pip, peeeeep!" he whistled as he puffed through Henry's tunnel.

He came out of the other side wheeshing steam in all sorts of directions. He laughed at this, whilst the trucks coughed and spluttered. Thomas puffed further down the line and past Kellsthorpe. Eagle, who was the branch line platform, looked on in surprise as the blue tank engine rushed by.

Thomas thundered past station and wizzed round bends. He was having the time of his life. He was getting more exciting as he went along, this caused him rattle and bump the trucks. This made them get more crosser and crosser.

"How dare he treat us like this?" growled a truck.

"He doesn't know how to though."

"Let's teach him a lesson."

They began to form a plan, Thomas didn't hear them. Soon, they arrived at hill and Thomas began to climb. He puffed and puffed with all his might. The trucks weight pulled him back and his wheels slipped.

"Come on boy!" encouraged his driver. "You're almost at the top."

And soon they were. Then Thomas saw a sign. Saying:

All Trains Must Pin Down Breaks

"Pip Pip Peeeeep!" whistled Thomas, "we're stopping! We're stopping!"

But before the driver could grab the handle to the breaks. The trucks began bumping into each other. "No no no!" they yelled. "Go on, go on, GO ON!"

And banging into each other even harder. They pushed Thomas down the hill. The crew didn't have time to react in time for the trucks were making it too rough to make them concentrate. Thomas rumbled down the hill, with the trucks laughing and screaming.

"Stop pushing! STOP PUSHING!!" he called to the trucks. But they didn't listen, and when they reached the bottom of the hill, Thomas was going way over his top speed. Thomas got a bend and almost lost his balance, but luckily it was short.

"Brakes driver, brakes!" yelled Thomas.

His driver responded. With shutting off the steam, he applied the brakes. Thomas wheels began to go against the weight of the train of trucks. Sparks flew out between Thomas' wheels and the rails. Thomas whistled in shock.

"Horrors!" he exclaimed. His driver looked out to see Wellsworth in sight. And there, on the same line, was Henry. Coming in with a passenger train.

"Thomas?" gasped Henry.

The signalman was surprised to see Thomas too. When he saw the blue tank engine come in sight. He immediately grabbed a lever, and switched the points. Diverting Thomas and the trucks into the yard.

Thomas gasped in shock to see at the end of the line was an empty siding with a pair of buffers at the end. His wheels locked up, and he shut his eyes. Readying himself for the impact. His buffers hit the siding's and he came to a complete stop, the buffers groaning and the trucks banging into each other, almost knocking each other of the rails.

Thomas winced from the pain coming and going, and he opened his eyes. The buffers looked like they were about break into tiny pieces. He quickly reversed and the sound of groaning buffers was heard throughout the yard.

Thomas' driver then walked quickly around to the tank engine's buffer beam to inspect it. He then sighed with relief. "No damage," he announced, and Thomas let out a heavy breath as well.

"That's a relief," smiled Thomas.

"It is indeed."

Thomas and his crew jumped, and looked over to see The Fat Director standing nearby them. "S-Sir!" gasped Thomas. "W-w-what are you doing here?"

"I was given a message at Tidmouth from the yard foreman. He said, that Edward is giving me a message that you and S.R.F.'s No.1 Matthew have switched roles for today and that you were currently going down the mainline."

"O-oh," replied Thomas.

"Once I'd got the message, I took Henry's train here to see you, and your crew," finished the stout gentleman.

Thomas' driver and fireman smiled weakly. The Fat Director stared at them crossly. Then turned back to Thomas. "Why did you come in so fast?"

"I didn't mean to sir. I was pushed," persisted Thomas.

"Did Matthew tell you how to pull trucks?"

"Yes sir. But, I don't think I was... listening."

"You've got a lot to learn about trucks Thomas," said The Fat Director, "I think it's best that you stay here for a while. Edward will teach all about how to shunt trucks and pull trains."

"Stay here sir?" gasped Thomas. "At Wellsworth?"

"Yes," replied The Fat Director.

"But who'll look after my the station and coaches back at Vicarstown!"

"Don't worry," smiled The Fat Director, "I don't think you'll be working there anymore."

"W-Why?" asked Thomas, confused at what our director said to him.

"Last week, I went to a board meeting to the London Midland and Scottish Railway to make a deal with them."

"What was in the deal sir?" asked Thomas' driver.

"The Wild Nor' Webster will now not start at Vicarstown, and end at Tidmouth. But will start at Tidmouth, and end in Euston station, which is the LMS terminus in London."

"London sir?" exclaimed Thomas.

"Yes," replied The Fat Director, "I've made arrangement to move our headquarters to Tidmouth. Where it'll go under a massive reconstruction. Whilst that will be going on. You'll remain here with Edward."

"Yes sir," replied Thomas.

"Mr Catchfield and Mr Grew," started The Fat Director.

"Um... yes sir?" asked Thomas' driver nervously.

"Be lucky, that you're quick thinking of stopping the train hasn't given you the sack," told The Fat Director, "don't let this happen again."

"Y-Yes Sir, and thank you sir," replied Thomas' crew quietly. The Fat Director nodded and walked away.

In the end. The Fat Director told General Alexander what Matthew had done. The general punished his engine severely. But didn't shut the war engine up when he explained why he let Thomas take the train. He said, that he would've done anyways, and he did try his best to tell him on what to do before the tank engine left.

When the operation to transfer the headquarters to the other end of the mainline started a month later. We were rushed off our wheels, and unfortunately, Simon got too steamed up about the extra work and got himself into... something messy. The Fat Director was furious because this incident set the project a few week back, and let's just say. Simon had to leave.

This caused a great mix-feel about the hole thing. Because now he was out of the way, we would have more peace on the railway. But now we had more work to do. But The Fat Director knew this would happen and would order an engine. That would have a deep history with Matthew. And let's just say their bond went very deep indeed...

But I shouldn't spoil no more, because I ruin the next story.


	10. Ep10: Thomas the Tank Engine

"Thomas. Hey Thomas."

The tank engine mumbled quietly to himself.

"Thomas!" I blew my whistle long and hard. Thomas woke up with a start.

"Hey! Cut it out!" he yelled.

"Shhh," I said.

"Yeah," scoffed Thomas, "you just tell me to shush when you blew your whistle at me!"

"Oh stop it," I replied sternly.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Half-past-five in the morning," I replied.

Thomas stared at me. "Why wake me up so early?" he exclaimed.

"Well I have to teach you to shunt and I don't have a lot of time before my first passenger train."

Thomas just rolled his eyes. I sighed deeply. This was going to be a long one.

Once Thomas puffed out of the sheds, he joined me and looked around the yard. I had set up the basics for him, now all he had to do was to shunt the trucks and I would tell him how to improve.

"This will be easy," smirked Thomas, he then puffed off and rammed into the trucks. The noice echoed across the yard and I cringed.

"Careful!" I exclaimed. "Do it more carefully, like shunting coaches."

"But they're not coaches," replied Thomas blankly and I sighed deeply.

"But trucks carry our customers goods," I continued, "if we bang a van we could break something."

"We even have to be careful with coal wagons?"

"Even coal wagons," I replied. Thomas groaned.

"You take all the joy out of everything," he said. I couldn't help but chuckled.

"But if I wasn't allowed to teach you then you would still be stuck in the yards at Vicarstown," I replied.

"Or Tidmouth, I think."

I smiled. "Come on," I said enthusiastically, "we still got a lot of time left on our buffers. Might as well start again with this lot."

Thomas reverse back with me and came to a gentle stop. "Remember," I said, "do it gently."

Thomas considered my words for a second, then slowly puffed forwards. He then buffered up to the empty van again, this time though, more gently and less roughly.

"There you go!" I cheered. Thomas beamed.

*

The sound of breaks echoed through the yard. It wasn't the only noice though, the sounds of shunters, doing their name-sake work. The Fat Director then climbed out of the coach, with General Alexander after him.

"Thank you Matthew," replied The Fat Director, "but why did you want me to come here?"

"So to buy an engine sir," replied the war engine.

"I know that you know that I'm in need of an engine," sighed The Fat Director, "but you don't need to send me all the way to Yorkshire just to find one!"

"Oh come on sir," smiled Matthew, "there's an engine here that is keen on being apart of your fleet. Just see him sir."

The Fat Director looked at the war engine. "You say he's an old friend?"

"Yes Topham," replied General Alexander, "he worked alongside my engine in the Great War! And he's the only type of his class to be built, so we'll know it's him."

The Fat Director sighed. "Fine, fine," he said, "take him to me."

The general smiled. "Well the board of directors said that he'll be over here."

The general began to walk toward a coaling depot. The Fat Director followed suit. Matthew could only watch.

Both men soon walked around a building. General Alexander smiled in relief, whilst The Fat Director froze for a second in shock. There, next to the coaling depot, was an engine he had never seen before.

Both men walked up to the tender engine. "This," started General Alexander, "this is James. He is a Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway Class 28."

"B-But he has a 2-6-0 configuration!"

"He does indeed. He is an experimental mogul for his class, seeing as his class his difficulty moving around bends, they tried to fix the problem by giving him this wheel arrangement. Sadly, it wasn't a success."

"Why didn't they fix him into a 0-6-0 like his siblings after the test was a failure?"

Before General Alexander could reply, the tender engine spoke. "It was my own decision sir. I felt special with these modifications, so I asked to keep them. They allowed it."

"I see," replied the director. He then looked closely at the engine's face. "Tell me, how did you get that scar?"

Both men looked at the scar on the engine which went across the bridge of his nose. James bashfully looked at his buffers. "Most engines from the war got scars from the frontlines sir," replied James.

"He got it whilst an attack was held at our base with us defending whilst the Germans attacked," explained the general, "a bomb made a building go up and parts of the building hit James in the face."

They both then looked back up at the scar. "The scar was where the worst of his injuries was . Where piece of metal got stuck in there. We had no choice but to send one of our best engines back to England to get his face repaired, and by the time he was out of the works. The war had ended three weeks ago."

"Mm-hmm," replied The Fat Director.

"He is a hard worker Topham," said the general.

"I think I can see that," replied The Fat Director, he then turned to General Alexander and smiled. "So, how much is he?"

*

"Careful. Easy does it. Yes! Well done Thomas!"

Thomas smiled and backed away from the trucks. "I think I'm getting the hang of it now," he said, as he stopped next to me.

"I think you are too," I replied, "soon, you'll be allowed to pull trains on your own."

"Do you think so?"

I chuckled. "Of cause! You've been working hard for the past two weeks. I think you'll be able to take a train with me down to the docks."

"But, it won't be on my own," sighed Thomas.

"Listen, Thomas," I started, "I know you pulled train before. But not on your own, and when you did with trucks, you almost caused an accident."

"I see," sighed Thomas.

"Come on," I said, "we need to take the train."

*

We thundered through the countryside. My wheels pounded the rails as Thomas followed suit. We rubbled over the bridge, and towards the capital.

I was pleased with Thomas. "You're a quick learner," I said.

"Well I did have a good teacher," Thomas smirked back.

I chuckled. "You are very good now. I say you can run your own branch line."

"Do you think so?"

"I think so," I smiled.

We puffed down the line in silence, going past Suddery station and continued on to Brendam. I looked back at Thomas and the train.

"The Fat Director has told me that the a new engine is taking over Simon's place on the mainline," I informed.

"Really? Who?" asked Thomas.

"I don't know, but apparently he's arriving today," I replied. We then puffed into the docks, Thomas looked around the key side in owe.

"I've never seen a dockyard on Sodor before," he murmured to me and I smiled. We then stopped next to the key and I was soon uncoupled.

"Leave the trucks there and find Neil," I told him, "then he'll take you to your train."

"My train?" asked Thomas.

"Well of cause!" I chuckled, "it'll be a passenger service of cause, but it will help you with pulling trains."

I puffed away smiling, leaving a very excited tank engine behind. I found my goods train a few minutes later and puffed out of the docks to return to the other end of my branch line. I puffed along it with ease. I soon arrived back at Wellsworth and shunted my coaches into their sidings. I had just finished and had went to get water, when I heard a whistle.

"That sounds unfamiliar," I said to my driver.

"Who on earth could it be?" wondered my driver. We soon got our answer, as a tender engine covered in a black livery with red stripes came into site. He whistled loudly and came to a stop at the station with his coaches behind him.

"Ha! I knew I could get here!" he laughed.

Passengers soon got out and into the train, the engine just sizzled happily at the station.

"Hullo," I said, "you must be that new engine the director ordered."

"Indeed I am," came the reply, "my name is James. And you are?"

"Edward," I replied, "I run this branch line."

"Looks like you do," sniffed James, "You look like an FR K2."

"I am."

"Huh. You're type are very rare now, I have never seen one before," said James.

I was hurt, but I still tried to be polite. "Well at least I'm still useful. What class are you then? I have never seen your type before."

"I'm an LYR Class 28," replied James proudly.

"I don't think you are-"

"Modified with a 2-6-0 configuration," interrupted James quickly, "the LMS were daft to offer me up. But then again, Matthew is here so that's alright."

"So that's why you are here?" I said. "Because you know Matthew?"

"Know Matthew? Of cause!" snorted James. "Why did he and his general go all the way to Yorkshire to look for me!"

I sighed. Already I knew he was going to be quite the character in are fleet of locomotives. I then noticed something on the left side of his face.

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

"Get what?"

"That scar on your left cheek?"

James didn't say anything for a second, he just glared at me. I then felt the mood of the conversation change. And I was very lucky to hear Thomas' whistle as he came to the station, proudly as ever.

"Hello!" he called, to the new engine. "My name is Thomas, what's your's?"

"...James."

"Pleasure to meet you James, I'm sure to see you soon at our main terminus since I am the station pilot there and-"

The tank engine was then rudely interrupted by the guard's whistle. James let a sigh of relief.

"Sorry for the short chat, but I have to go now, good by Tom, and I'll see you later Edwin."

"Edward."

"Whatever." And James puffed quickly away.

As he puffed away, Thomas looked at me. "What was that scar on his cheek for?"

"I don't know. But I do know that he use to work with Matthew."

"Matthew has a similar scar to James as well," replied Thomas, "you don't think that, the new engine is..."

"A war engine," I finished, "he could be. But you never know."

I sighed. "I'll be taking another train back up to Brendam later," I told Thomas, "just keep the yard in order whilst I'll be away."

Thomas understood.

*

James soon arrived at the terminus, he was uncoupled from the train and ran to the yards to get turned around at the turntable. Lily was there, filling up with coal so to go back up her branch line.

"Hello there," she smiled at the newcomer.

"Hello there," greeted James warmly.

"You must be that engine Matthew mentioned to me? James was it?"

"Yes it was."

"Well let me just say, it is nice to meet you. Excuse me, but I have to get going now. I'll see you later, then we can have a talk."

"Yeah, that'll be nice," called James.

After James got turned around, the yard foreman strode up to him and his crew. "No.12692, you are needed to take a goods train to Vicarstown and come back here with another one. It is urgent, so when you are ready you can go and fetch them. WS No.2 will show you where your train is. Now hurry along!"

James was gasp. "Already one of my first trains on this railway and I'm pulling dirty trucks! PAH!!"

"Oh come on," sighed his driver, "it won't be that bad."

James only fumed. He found Colin and then both found the trucks. James banged into them roughly. "I don't think you're suppose to do that," said Colin to James.

James only rolled his eyes. "What do you know? You're only a shunter. Not a mainline tender engine like me."

He then puffed off, leaving Colin a little hurt.

James rattled along the line. The trucks banging and swaying into each other. "Oh oh oh!" they screamed.

"Shut it!" shouted James and gave them a mighty bashing. The trucks yelled in annoyance.

James puffed past Wellsworth. With the trucks rattling behind. Thomas and I watched with raised brows.

"Idiot," muttered Thomas.

"He'll get what's coming to him," I replied, "for now let's focus on not getting ourselves in trouble with the trucks."

Thomas quietly agreed.

Then there was a loud whistle, and Alfred came into the yard the other direction as James with weird looking trucks and coach right behind him. Grumbling quietly to himself.

"What on earth," I murmured to myself.

"Hey, Alfred what's that you pulling?" called Thomas.

Alfred looked up from his buffers and saw Thomas and I with curious faces. "This," replied Alfred, "these are Judy and Jerome."

"Who and what?"

"Judy and Jerome," repeated Alfred, "they are our new breakdown cranes."

"Breakdown cranes. What is that?" asked Thomas.

"Ugh, if there's a crash or an engine derailed. Cranes can lift the them back on to the rails. Judy and Jerome have just been brought in just incase with have a similar accidents. I mean it would be a lot easier now putting engines back on to the rails."

"Indeed," I agreed.

"But you must never touch or bother them," said Alfred strictly, "they are only for emergencies. They get top priority."

Alfred then ran around to the other end of the train, and shunted Judy and Jerome into a siding, who were fast asleep.

Alfred then left whilst Thomas and I looked at the cranes full of curiosity.

*

Later that day, Thomas was shunting in yards again. I had to take a train back up to Brendam so Thomas was just on his own for the meantime. He had just shunted some open wagons into the siding. When he saw the mainline signal go up for green.

"Looks like another engine could come by soon," his driver said. He was right, but they expect how the train would come through.

Whistling could be heard, the screaming and yelling of trucks, the smoke billowing from the bushes. All getting closer and closer. Then out of them, came James. He was frightened.

"Help! HELP!!" he cried. "They're pushing me! THEY'RE PUSHING ME!!!!"

"ON! ON! ON! ON!!" yelled the trucks.

James tried to apply his brakes. But he couldn't, they had fought fire and he could do nothing, as he thundered down the line. Being pushed by the trucks.

Thomas eyes were widened. "Well I didn't expect that," he said to his crew.

A few minutes later, the bell was ringing from the signal box, and the signalman came out, yelling to Thomas and his crew.

"No.12692 has come off the rails outside Knapford!" he called. "Take No.1 and the breakdown train to the scene of the accident immediately!"

The crew did, Thomas was buffered up to Judy and Jerome. "Wake up! Wake up!" he called. "This is an emergency!"

Both the cranes woke with a start. "Emergency?" They both said in unison.

Thomas then puffed out the yards, explaining to them what had happened. They soon found James off the rails in a field with cows in it. His driver and fireman looking all over him to see if he was alright.

When Thomas came to a stop near the accident scene, his own crew went to check James' whilst the breakdown cranes and workmen started to clear up the mess.

"Are you two alright?" asked Thomas' driver.

"A bit shaken," replied James' fireman, "but unhurt, I think."

"What happened?" asked Thomas' fireman.

"Turns out the trucks like to cause accidents around here," James' driver replied, "nobody warned us about how they are like."

"Trust me," said Thomas' driver, "we had a similar incident a few days ago. I think it's best you two go to the station."

"Yes indeed," added the fireman, "the stationmaster would've called for an ambulance now."

They crew did, with the help of some workmen. Thomas' crew then came back to him. "Well Thomas," said his driver, "we've got a lot of cleaning up to do."

Thomas sighed deeply. "Well, at least I've got something better to than shunt," he said.

He was then uncoupled from the breakdown train and started to take trucks that were still on the rails away.

"Oh dear, Oh dear!" they moaned.

"Serves you right!" replied Thomas crossly and banged into them.

He soon came back and all afternoon he was puffing backwards and forwards. Biffing and shunting the remainders of the trucks.

"This will teach you!" he said sharply. And gave some trucks a bigger bump than usual.

The trucks groaned and said nothing as Thomas pulled them away.

When all the trucks were moved. Thomas came back.

"Thomas dear," called Judy, "Can you move us towards James please? He's quite a distance from us!"

Thomas did. Judy and Jerome soon got into position. "Now we are going to put James back on to the other line," said Jerome, "so can you go back to Crosby and switch lines for us?"

"Of course!" replied Thomas and puffed back to the station.

When he got there, Alfred was there on the other line. Since this part of the mainline was only a two way line from Crosby to Tidmouth. Thomas has no choice but to wait until Alfred has cleared the mainline when he went passed Knapford. The B12 looked over to the yards where the moaning and broken trucks were. He then looked at Thomas who had stopped next to him.

"What has happened?" he asked, and Thomas explained everything.

"His brakes were on fire too," added Thomas.

"Hmm. Must of have wooden brake blocks then," said Alfred, "they can catch fire very easily they do. I knew an engine that had them, back on my railway. He was so stubborn of having keeping them that when they caught fire when he was a runaway himself. He crashed into the ocean at some docks."

"How do you know this?" asked Thomas curiously.

"I watched it happen," replied Alfred grimly. Before either of them could say anything. The guard blew his whistle and Alfred puffed off.

Thomas watched him go. "That's odd," he said thoughtfully to himself.

"What is?" asked his driver.

"That was the first Alfred has spoken to me without saying anything rude or obnoxious to me," replied the tank engine.

The driver nodded. "Come to think of it. Your right."

Thomas returned to the crash site to find James had been lifted back on to his right side. Thomas could them clearly see that his tender was completely smashed and James looked worst for wear himself. He had woken up from his knock out, and was petrified to see himself in a state and for about to be lifted up by two cranes together.

"Steady now, steady!" yelled Judy, and they began to pick him up. James squeaked a little, which made Thomas smirk a bit. And soon enough, James was placed back on to the rails. Behind Thomas and facing the other way.

"Do you want me to take him now or wait for his tender to be out back?" asked Thomas.

"The tender is smash Thomas," replied Jerome, "just take James to Tidmouth."

"What are you going to do?" asked Thomas.

"Stay here and finish off clearing the mess," replied Judy.

"Indeed," agreed Jerome, "Edward is on his way to take us back to Wellsworth, so don't you worry!"

Thomas smiled. "I'll see you both later then!" he called, and he pulled James away from the scene.

None of them spoke on the journey to Tidmouth. Thomas then arrived at the town. He had never gone to Tidmouth before and was amazed by how well it looked. With the station had a glass cover and metal which was covered in blue paint. He puffed past the massive building and went further down the track into the yards. The Fat Director was waiting for them.

"Well done Thomas!" he smiled, "I have all about the accident and you helping with the rescue operation and I'm very pleased with you. You are a really useful engine."

He turned to James. "I'm quite surprised that you had your first accident here on your first day too. Wooden brakes aren't acceptable on my railway. You will go to the works and be repaired, with proper brakes and a new coat of paint."

"Th-thank you sir," replied James, "and I'm sorry about all this."

The Fat Director smiled. "It wasn't your fault, trucks and brakes are the cause of it." He then returned to Thomas.

"The Ffarquhar branch line is a beautiful place to work," he began, "the coffee-pots, Claire, Glynn and Jane are having trouble with keeping up with the work. So I gave them an offer with Claire going to work at Tidmouth. Whilst you." He paused impressively. "Whilst you will run the line with Glynn and Jane."

Thomas gasped. "Oh thank you sir!" he cried, "I promise I won't never let you regret this!"

"I hope so too," chuckled The Fat Director, "you'll stay here tonight and in two days you and Claire will switch."

Thomas was very pleased.

Now, Thomas runs the Ffarquhar branch line with Glynn and Jane. He usually runs the passenger services with occasionally taking the goods trains if Glynn or Jane were busy or if it was too heavy for them. He has too coaches called Annie and Clarabel. He loves them very much.

James was soon repaired. He was given a new tender, new brakes, and a new coat of red paint with the number five on each side of his tender. James was a handful after he returned to service. But proved himself to be a hard worker.

Thomas never gets bored on the branch line, and he would often see the other mainline engines when he was at Knapford junction. I would sometimes come and take a stopping train from Brendam to Tidmouth and would have a guaranteed-connection with him.

Gordon doesn't usually stop there. Since his express only stops at two stations on Sodor. But he would always give a whistle to Thomas when he goes by. And Thomas would whistle back, in return.


	11. The Engine That Was A Soldier

This, is Yorkshire, and Lancashire too. With fields that are as green as ever. With harden brick houses within urban cities and rural villages, some houses were even still from the Tudors. But it's home, and I love it. But you might be thinking, where do I live? Well, I live somewhere different from what most people would think. You see, I live where I work, and it isn't a farm, nor a workhouse, not even the army.

But a railway.

That's right, I'm an engine. And who cares? My name is James. But I was usually called Jimmy by most engines back then, and on the date of August 4th 1914, I'm pulling a goods train to the docks in Southport, near where I live.

"Oi watch it you! This isn't a racetrack!!"

And let's just say, I was trying to beat a record back then. I was pounding the rails, with 24 open wagons full of coal and ballast. Ready to be shipped off and across the world.

My wheels became blurs as I raced through a station, passing a Class 32 with a passenger service. "Hey!" yelled the Class 32. He grumbled crossly. "Engines of today," he muttered to himself.

I got closer and closer to the docks. Racing under a bridge and rattled over the points off of the mainline and to the docks.

"Nearly there! Nearly there!" I murmured. Then it happened. I forgot about the speed limit until it show'd up.

20 MPH it said.

I was going around about 40 and I came into the docks with screeching wheels and whistling fit to burst, frantically trying to control the train into stopping. I went over a turning and into a siding. I then looked onwards to see some fully-loaded coal wagons at the end of the siding. I brakednx even harder, slowing down, but not enough. I crashed into the set of wagons, making them go flying with their loads. They came back to the ground, off the rails and coal flying down across the tracks.

"Ouch," I said. I looked down to my buffer beam. Fortunately, nothing had gotten damaged. "Phew," I said in relief, "Now that. Was a close one."

"Hey! Mate!"

I looked over and groaned. A saddle tank, what looked to be a Class 23 came storming up to me on the other track.

"What's all this?" he demanded.

"I brought a train from Preston. Here for you lads here at Northport."

"Southport," corrected the Class 23, "Is this the 2:15?"

"Indeed it is!" I smiled.

"Good, you're return train won't be ready for another two hours. So clean this mess up!"

"What? Me clean all this?" I said in shock.

"Well you were the one that derailed them," replied the Class 23, "and the rest of us are as busy as it is here at Southport."

"Well you're not doing anything," I sniffed.

"That's because I need you to get your soggy little tender off of the train I need to shunt!" yelled the Class 23, "Now move it and get this mess sorted out!"

I smirked. "Why should I?"

The Class 23 gritted his teeth at me. "What's your name?"

"Jimmy."

"You listen here Jimmy, if you don't fix what you've done. I'm reporting you-"

A sharp whistle interrupted the Class 23's threat. I was glad at that. A Hughes 4-6-0 came into the docks, coming a stop right next to us.

"Hunter?" I said in surprise, "Why are you here? You don't work these parts of the lines."

"I come here with grave news my ally," replied Hunter darkly.

"What sort of news?" asked the Class 23.

"Yeah, spit it out," I added.

"The Germans," said Hunter, "We have declared war with the Germans."

Both me and the Class 23 were both silent for a second. War? War had never crossed my mind one bit. I knew that most countries were ready to bear the heck out of each other, it I thought it would never happen.

"W-War on the Germans?" repeated the Class 23.

"Indeed," replied Hunter, "I've been ordered to tell the engines along the line from Preston, to Wigan. Tell the others here. Word must spread, now I must head back onto the mainline to Wigan. I'll see you later tonight James!"

"It's Jimmy!" I snapped.

"So your name is actually James?" smirked the Class 23.

"Shut it you dirty object," I snapped, "Now get this train off me and I'll get the breakdown crane, just for you."

The Class 23 just snorted indignantly and puffed away, grumbling something under his breath that I didn't hear.

Later that night, I came into the sheds, exhausted from the days work. I puffed up next to Noel, a class 27. We were great friends back then, and we only had each other. But we still preferred each other's company than the others.

"Evening James," smirked Noel. Referring to the Class 28's actual name.

"It's Jimmy. Noey," I retorted back, slightly annoyed at that.

Noel chuckled. He liked winding me up. Just then, a Class 5 came backing down next to Noel. "What's this I hear about you smashing coal wagons at Southport Jim?" he asked.

I sighed. Rolling my eyes almost back into my smokebox. "Well it wasn't my fault," I replied, "I was trying to make sure I made all my trains arrive to their destinations on time. There was also no speed limit until I entered the docks! By then it was too late, you should be lucky I didn't derail and-"

"No speed limit sign?" said Michael, "You are saying that there was no speed limit sign, when you went over the junction, to Southport docks and there was no sign saying, saying: 20 MPH?"

"Yes," I replied blankly.

After processing this information for a second, Michael scoffed. "That's a lie," he said.

"Oi, shut it," growled Noel, "Stop trying to pick on him."

"I am not," replied Michael crossly at Noel, "Rules are what keep us safe. Jim didn't obey the rules of speed limits and derailed some coal wagons at Southport docks today."

"And so?" snorted Noel, "He didn't see the sign! What's the big deal!"

"Must've not payed any attention then," snapped Michael, "And it is a very very big deal!"

"Yeah, like you were there," said Noel, rolling his eyes. Winking at me, I smiled back at him.

"Shut up you-"

"SILENCE ALL!"

The engines looked over to see a man in a rough suit come up to the sheds. He was an old man, starting to have a plumb body from all the drinking he had started with. He had greying black hair, over his head, that had been gelled up so he could see from the underneath the locks. His grey eyes, piercing the engines as he stared at them, one by one.

"I hope you've all heard the news," he began.

"Yes sir," replied the engines, almost in unison.

"War. War is coming to Britain, and we must prepare ourselves. We will need the strongest engines to take the trains around the region of network on the LYR. And." He paused for a moment. "I need engines to go to France and fight for our country."

The engines sat in their births, silent and still. Then one engine spoke up.

"I'll go!"

"No I can do it sir!"

"I'll show the German scum what Brits are made out off."

"SILENCE!" yelled the rough, suited man, "I'll be picking wether you'll go or not. Not letting you volunteer. I need to pick three of you here, so you'll fight with British and French troupes in the front lines."

He looked around the sheds carefully. "Let's see...," he pondered, "Ah No.12602 and No.1101. You two will be going France to work with the army!"

I smiled at that. I couldn't wait to work in France where the gunpowder and gunfire were. I looked over to Michael, who also looked very shocked. "But sir!" began the Class 5, "I'm a passenger engine. Not an army's engi-"

"Silence!" shouted the rough, suited man, "You will obey my orders. You'll both travel to the bottom of England and go to the French country by boat. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Understood Sir!"

"Good." The rough, suited man was about to turn and walk away, when Noel called out to him.

"Sir. Before you leave, you said three engines were needed, correct?"

The rough, suited man, turned around and chuckled. "Oh yes that's right! What's your number again?"

"I'm numbered 10265," replied Noel.

"Okay, No.10265," said the rough, suited man in a snarling way. At that moment, I knew what he was about to say. "You can be the third to go with them."

The rough, suited man walked away, muttering things under his breath.

"Well done Noel!" grunted Michael, "You've sentenced yourself to death."

"Pah. I haven't," retorted Noel, "And besides, I wanted to come in the first place."

The sheds were silent.

"Why?" asked Hunter.

"To show those German scum what British machines are made out off. Literally!" replied Noel, "They need to be taught a lesson, and I want to teach them!"

I and a few other engines chuckled. But Michael looked very concerned.

"Yeah, I agree," I smirked, "It can't be that bad. Besides, we're going to another country. A place where British engines have never gone before and we'll be getting out of this country quickly and quietly."

*

"You just had to say quickly and quietly, didn't you?"

"How do you remember that?"

"I have a good memory."

"Oh, shut it Michael."

As much as I hated it, Michael was right. We had came to the docks at Dover on the London, Chatham and Dover Railway, two months later. The ferry that would take us to France had broken down. So now there were a dozens of engines from all different railways, waiting to go to France. It had already been two months since the start of the war, and still engines were being sent out by the week, and finally, it was our turn to go.

"We should've been given a boat to France instead!" yelled a GNR J19.

"Yeah," agreed LBSC L class, "Come on what's the hold up!"

"We're trying as hard as we can!" replied an LCDR R Class, shunting some vans into a siding nearby the impatient lot of engines.

"Clearly not," muttered Noel to me.

"Why don't you go off and find some other place to be!" I called to the LCDR R Class tank, "You're a passenger engine not a shunter. Use your common sense!"

Most of the engines laughed. I smiled in triumph as the tank engine went red in the face and puffed away. I looked over to see Michael, glaring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't say that to them," scolded Michael, "It's their railway after all. Show some respect at least."

I only just scoffed and looked other to Noel, which is when we began to chat away. Ignoring Michael completely.

It was nighttime when us three began to be lifted off the rails and onto a ferry. Once a few more engines were lifted on and secured down to the massive beast, we began a small, but slow journey south. Towards France.

We all then finally got there. I was hoisted up into the air by a crane after a few other engines. He was rough with me, too rough for comfort.

I called out to him. "Careful mate! I'm a delicate thing, ready to work in the front lines!"

But I only got a French reply back, and the crane continued on. It was horrible, I was glad when I was put back onto firm rails. I was just coupled up to my tender, when I was buffered up by a tank engine, covered in R.O.D. painting.

"Woah!" I said, as I was pulled away from the ferry and the line of cranes, "What are you doing?"

"Well I'm moving you out of the way," replied the engine causally.

He looked like he was built in the 1970s or 80s. With massive, tanks, wheels and sandboxes. His configuration was a 0-4-2 one, a very odd one if you would ask me, and his trailing wheels was almost, if not, the same size as his driving wheels. He looked like a London, Brighton and South Coast engine too and to be honest, wasn't very impressed with the engine's design.

He shunted me into a siding and left me there with other engines. All from different railways, a few of them were with their brothers. Whilst others were from an entire different railway, all alone with no cousins or siblings with them. I then notice that workmen were with them, but not inspecting them, or cleaning them. But repainting them in R.O.D. black. I didn't like this one bit, but I had no choice. A few hours later, my Lancashire and Yorkshire paintwork was stripped off of me and was replace with a horrid black livery, different from the usual Lancashire and Yorkshire black. By the time they were finished with me, Michael had only just started and the same tank engine that had brought in me shunted Noel into a siding nearby me.

A workman then walked up to me. "You are now No.1289. Correct?"

"Um..." I looked to Michael. Who mouthed, 'yes'.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, "I am No.1289! What do you need me to do?"

"Well for starters," said the workman, looking down at his paper in his hands, "I need you to do some shunting in the yards for a bit for an GCR 8K. Got that?"

"Shunting?" I repeated, "Isn't that for tank engines?"

"Yes," replied the workman, "But they are too busy to shunt this train. It's only this one. Then you won't have to bother, hopefully, for the rest of the war. Now get going!"

I huffed quietly to myself and pulled out of the sidings, leaving the other engines behind. I soon found the yards, I was then ordered by the shutters to shunt some vans into each other. I soon found them all, and they were coupled up together just in time for the GCR 8K to come into the yard and buffer up to them.

"Thanks mate," he said swiftly.

"Your welcome," I replied. Embarrassed to look at the engine.

"Seriously though, I heard that you were only engine available to do shunt this for me, you have helped tremendously! My name is Nigel, what's yours?"

"...Jimmy," I replied.

"Well, good work Jim," smiled Nigel, "I can tell you will become an asset to the British Army. Sorry, but I can't chat, War is still going out there and this gunpowder is needed for our allies. I'll see you later."

The gruff engine then puffed away. I smiled. "Well he'd seem nice," I said to my crew. My driver and fireman said nothing.

Throughout the week, I volunteered with shunting the trains for bigger engines to take to the front lines. Most of them praised my efforts, saying that I did well, some even said I did better than the tank engines. But some thought otherwise.

"Coward," said a Furness Railway D5 Class.

"Sorry, what did you say?" I asked.

"I said what you are," snapped the D5, "A coward. A tender engine that is too afraid to head out to the front lines."

"Pah," I scoffed, "I'm helping the others!"

"Not like us, we take the lads home, whilst you just weep in a siding, too scared to go near the missiles."

"I do not!"

"Yes you do."

"I DO NOT!"

"Prove it then!"

I went silent. Thinking of how to show this git of what I could and could not do. I then smiled, knowing I couldn't do anything. "I can't really."

"Why not," growled the D5.

"Because I haven't been given any information about how to handle trains at the front lines or take care with situations at the front lines, etc. with the front lines!"

The D5 growled. "Fine then. Have it the way it is then." He then puffed away. I just watched him in triumph. But unfortunately, it wouldn't last long.

The next morning, the D5 began to moan and groan. "My boiler is feeling odd!" he complained. The engineers at the base searched him all over, but they couldn't find anything. The problem was, was that the D5 was suppose to take the first train to the front lines, but now he couldn't, the only other steam engine that was powerful enough to take the train. Was me.

I wasn't given any defence. It was out of my power to choose wether I go or not. That was one of the lessons I taught myself about war. Once something is arranged, you cannot stop it, unless fire power.

I was soon coupled to the train. It was full of supplies, such as food, medicine, wood and wiring for the trenches and soldiers. I gulped nervously. Feeling like my frames would collapse. I then heard the whistle, and I pulled out of the siding and onto the line, towards the front lines. The line towards my possible death.

As I puffed along the line, I saw the French countryside become wild and green, to brown and mucky. I then went passed a village, deserted from the evacuation for the citizens to stay away from the fighting nearby. The church that towered over all the buildings of the village, was in a mess. Some of the building was demolished and part of the tower had a huge hole in it, right underneath the clock of the tower. As soon as it went out of site, I began to look forward again. I then began to go into a forest, both with live trees, and dead ones, all with bullet holes. I then passed a lake, curving around it and continuing down the track, which began to get bumpier and bumpier, and at last.

The sounds of gun firing.

The sounds of the missiles in the air.

And the sounds, of men screaming and shouting.

I whimpered a bit. Beginning to slow, I then felt a hand, rough, but gentle, pat the side of my cab. "Easy there boy," whispered my driver, under the sounds of war. "It's going to be okay."

But it won't. You will see what the others have seen. You will see their horror story.

What was only miles away, came at me in seconds. I was at the front lines. I was only a few feet away of getting onto the other railway lines, where I could pull my train onto one set of track and head back as soon as possible. But soldiers held us back, I waited impatiently as they made their checks on the train.

The soldiers to me look like it was just another normal day at work. But to me, it was a horror. I looked over to the trenches and military weaponry. Massive guns aiming away from me fired their directions to the Germans, as they fired back. I watch in shock, as one of our missiles hit the inside of an energy trench.

My eyes widened at that. I then heard gun firing, then looked over to see a man walking back to the trenches, with another man other his shoulder, bleeding out. Red blood and black and brown mud covered their faces and uniforms. The running soldier ran straight towards the trench, another soldier from inside the trench grabbed onto the wounded one and pulled him into the trench. Whilst the other soldier began to climb down the ladder and into the trench.

I sighed with relief. It was just luck to watch that happen and nothing tragic came to them. The soldiers inspecting the train and up to my crew and said it was clear for me to go. My driver opened the regulator and I puffed forwards as quickly as I dared. I had already seen enough. I pulled my train right where I was told to, was uncoupled and I puffed over the points and began to reverse back down the other track and head back to the base. I thought that would be it.

Oh, how wrong was I.

As I puffed over the points on the other end and began to head back fully. A missile landed right in front of me. Destroying the tracks that I had just went over.

It was horrifying for me. I whistle loudly. Then, another missile plummeted down to the ground, too close for me that the force of the impact of it to the ground made go up in the air a little. Then, something snapped.

"What was that!" I cried.

"Your safety valve!" yelled back my driver, "We're stuck here!"

"No, no, no, no, no, no," I murmured to myself. Closing my eyes, expecting the worse. Then I felt a pair of buffers come up behind me. Then I heard the chains of couplings being attached, and with a unfamiliar, and abnormal whistle. An engine from behind began to pull back and away from the twisted, destroyed track, and away from the front lines.

*

I returned to the yards, quivering from the hole ordeal. The D5 then came up to me, smirking at me.

"Well, well, well," he said, as he came to stop, "what has happen to you?"

I said nothing. The D5 was about to speak again. Then I heard a whistle, the same abnormal whistle from earlier. I looked over to see an 0-6-2 tank engine on another siding with a few men in well suited uniforms from the army.

"David!" he called, "Come over here please!"

David huffed and the engine puffed away from me. Still giving me his snarling. It was a few minutes later, but David puffed past me, looking pale and stressed out.

I raised a brow as he puffed by me. He didn't look at me. I then looked over to where the 0-6-2 tank engine was puffing up to me. He looked more like an LBSCR E4 tank engine, he had side tanks that were wider than his cab, and his frames had a look of Southern region. The only thing that was different from an E4, was his boiler being slightly larger than the usual one. To my personal opinion, he looked better than the original look of the E4s.

"Where is he going?" I asked the E4.

"David is going back to England," replied the E4, "He isn't welcome here if he's going to be retreating to his siding."

My jaw dropped. "You mean, he was pretending to be sick all along?"

The E4 looked at me sternly. "Yes," came his reply, "He was pretending. Tell me, did you two ever... got along?"

"No," I said, "he always called me a coward with only shunting in these yards so that the bigger engines would take the trains to the front lines."

"I see," murmured the tank engine, looking onwards, narrowing his eyes at something that I predicted was David. "What's your name?"

"James," I replied, "But most folk call me Jimmy. Or Jim."

"Jim aye?" smiled the war engine, "Well my name is Matthew. How long have you been here Jim?"

"I've been here for only two weeks," I said.

"A fortnight," said Matthew thoughtfully.

"When did you come and where?" I asked quickly.

"Oh me?" chuckled Matthew, "I came here only this morning. I went to inspect the front lines but I found you. Almost blown up by missiles!"

"Oh," I said, I looked down at my buffers. The thought of just seeing the men there was terrifying. "And my other question?"

"I come from the S.R.F," Matthew replied, "Sodor Royal Forces."

I looked up at him. "I never heard of that army before," I said,

"The army is quite small from Britain's," replied Matthew, a slight chuckle came from his voice, "But it's nice and quite. My general loves to keep things busy back at the fort though, but I don't mind the work. Kept me busy."

"I see," I said.

"Well, I better be off," said Matthew, "That line that got destroyed was our only way of bringing in the supplies and reserved soldiers to the front lines. We need to rebuilt it as quickly as possible."

"I-I understand," I stuttered, and Matthew puffed away.

Then Noel came up to me a few minutes, looking at me with a warm smile on his face. "I see you met Matthew," he said.

"Yes, he's alright," I replied.

"Just alright?" said Noel, "You do realise that that E4 tank engine is in the higher-ups in this war? Right?"

"You mean?" I gasped, "He is a engine of command?"

"Yes," replied Noel, "He seems to like you."

I was shocked even more. That E4, was an Engine Of Command. That meant he had the right to order us on what to do. He was basically a leader, that was also an engine. These types of engines were rare in the R.O.D. or any other army organisation. But they were quite sensible and very, very strict.

I left it that, and said another word.

Throughout the next few weeks, I was told that I would shunt the yard like I would often do. Whilst I did my part at the base, Matthew and a few other, bigger tender engines would go out of the base with trains for the men at the front lines and sometimes would take trains of supplies to fix the demolished set of track. A few weeks turned into months, and in December, the line was fixed for us to use again properly.

Matthew was very pleased with this. Even though there was no proper celebration, but a few generals did pop a cork in a bottle of wine that night. A few engines then started to take trains to the front lines again. Noel didn't mind it, he felt a bit more frilled that he was back pulling trains to the front lines again. I wasn't that keen on the idea, but I wouldn't start to worry about Noel either.

"But why me?" I exclaimed to Matthew.

"Because you can't be stuck here all day when other engines are risking their lives to keep the men in line," replied Matthew, "Besides you need to learn the ropes with pulling trains to the front lines."

"But-But I-I-!" I stuttered, lost for words.

Matthew sighed. "No buts now Jim!" he said, "now come on! But first turn around so you're facing the opposite direction to when you're heading to the front lines."

"Why?" I demanded.

"So it's quicker to get away from the fields," replied Matthew blankly, "now off you go!"

I grumbled and got myself turned around. I soon came back to Matthew who was with a train of vans. "It's best if I lead," said Matthew, "so your tender won't derail if we are pushing it."

I groaned loudly and buffered up to the train. Matthew did the same as he was soon coupled up to me, the guard's whistle blew and we set out back to the front lines.

We puffed slowly down the line. The train of vans clattering behind us. It was a silent trip through the white snow, until as we went past the village with the massive church tower, Matthew spoke up.

"This the first time you're going back to the front lines," he said.

I knew he already knew that he was right already, judging by his tone of voice. "...Yes," I said when I had the words.

"How do you describe it from your first look at it?" asked Matthew.

"Horrifying," came my reply.

Matthew hummed in response.

We both soon arrived at the front lines. I was expecting the same things had happened before. But it was awfully quite. No guns firing, no missiles, no men shouting.

They were all in the trenches. Quite, standing or sitting. Their faces, either had bored or tired or had scared expressions. Some were shaking a little, hugging themselves, looking like if they did, they will evaporate into dusty particles in the wind.

I was confused. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Snow is a horrid thing sometimes," replied Matthew, "But not for us, or the soldiers. There's too much of it. So no groups will be fighting on these lines today."

I looked across to the front lines. Seeing that wired fences were halfway deep in snow. I then realised something. "How did we get through the snow though?" I asked.

"We sent some engines up this line with some snowploughs," said Matthew, "They would never let an engine with train come up here with snow on the rails."

"Why aren't the Germans attacking us?" I said, "Surely they would try to stop the energy providing their soldier with supplies?"

"You can also ask the Germans that question too," Matthew responded, "They're doing the exact same thing in their lines. So nobody is fighting."

I gave Matthew a puzzled look. The tank engine sighed.

"There are men in their groups that want nothing to do with the fighting as well," he continued, "They are not all heartless. Besides, not all of them are German too."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Some are apart of the Austria-Hungary empire," answered Matthew, "I'm being a bit hypocritical here, but I don't know why we always say we fight the Germans."

He then pulled away from me and went over the points. "We take that train back," he stayed. I looked over to see vans and wagons all in a siding.

"What are they filled with?" I asked:

Matthew chuckled. "You are the questioner. Aren't you?" he smiled.

"Just answer my question," I said, getting annoyed.

"They aren't filled with anything," replied Matthew, "They are empty stock, waiting to be taken back by us. Come on!"

I was buffered up to the train, and so was Matthew in front of me. We were coupled up, and Matthew and I began to pull the long, but light train out and away from the front lines.

We rattled back down the line, with Matthew in front, me behind. We came to the icy forest, white snow and brown trees mixed together in a satisfying way. The cold rails shivered Lupe they were alive as we rushed over them. We soon began to puff next to the lake, Matthew chuckled, I looked up to him puzzled.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked.

"I'm chuckling. Chuckling at everything," said Matthew, wondrously, "Everything is so beautiful at this time of year."

We soon finished going around the bend and the lake stopped travelling next to us. We then began to start to head out of the forest, full of trees and bushes and into the white countryside.

We soon came to the village with the large church tower. I looked over at it, again. Deserted still.

"I know what you're thinking about," said Matthew suddenly. I slightly jumped at that.

"What do you mean?"

"You think that there's nothing here in the world anymore, the bloodshed here. The engines that come and go, some not even returning home."

My buffers went cold from this. Never coming home? Back to Preston, where I use to work at. With engines all different shapes and sizes. I then realised that I was at risk with never seeing my home again, the engines I work with. My country with it's beautiful countryside.

"But you can have fun in it all!" carried on Matthew, interrupting my thoughts all together, "Just forgetting it all. It's makes you more relaxed and more free."

"Really?" I asked, "show me how we can have fun?"

Matthew hummed for a second, then he stopped his own sound, and I could feel his own smile on me.

"You know those set of points that come into a two way line soon?" he asked.

I raised a brow. "Yes," I replied, "Why?"

Matthew chuckled. "This is why?"

He tugged me and the trucks forward and over the points. I yelped in fright as we swayed over the points, almost tipping over. We soon regained balanced quickly. Matthew began to laugh whilst a breathed in and out heavily from the shock.

"What was that!?" I exclaimed, to the war engine.

"Well you wanted fun," smiled Matthew, "I showed you it."

"That was dangerous!"

"Well," ponder Matthew for a bit, "We all need a bit of danger too."

I huffed. "Danger and fun for you ay?" said I, "Please tell me you consider somethings else?"

"Well of course!"

"Then show me that too."

Matthew stopped tugging me then slammed his brakes on, bashing into my buffers.

"Why?" I yelled. We then thundered through the tunnel that went for three-quarters of a mile. By halfway, Matthew had already slowed me down, and when we came out of the tunnel, we were going 30 miles per hour. But I soon forgot about what Matthew did, as I gasped.

I had forgotten that it was coming the end of the day, and the sky showed it. The sun had come out of the dark, dull clouds and now beamed out at us with rays of sunlight hitting the piles of snow in the fields. We were puffing on an embankment, which stood above the countryside, Matthew and I watched as the sun slowly went down. Amazed by how bright it was in December.

"Woah," I said simply.

Matthew smiled. "I'm glad you see it that way too," said he, "You can see the beauty of life? Even though you're in the darkest hour of life?"

"...yes," I responded.

"Hmph," came the reply from Matthew. We traveled along the embankment for a silent few minutes. Watching the sun beam it's light across the French land.

"You know Jim?" said Matthew, "You never really told me how you anticipated fun?"

"No you didn't," I said, boosting up my confidence a little.

"So, what is it?" asked the E4.

"Well, if you really want to know?" I said, "I think I'll show it to you, instead of telling you."

With that, I shoved Matthew forwards. He was startled by the sudden push, them laughed.

"Take it easy there Jim!" he laughed.

"That's odd," I smiled, "I thought you said we needed danger in life. Right?"

"Right," smirked Matthew as we sped down the line.

We soon came around the corner to see the base coming towards us. Matthew then gasped. I raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" I asked.

"Remember that we have a speed limit?" said Matthew.

"Yeah," I replied, I then realised what he meant. I slammed the breaks hard on, Matthew did the same and we screeched into the yard of the base, and eventually came to a stop in the middle of arrival and departure tracks.

"Well, that happened," said Matthew.

"Oi! What do you two think you're doing?"

I looked over to see that D1 that shunted me when I first came here, backing up to look at Matthew.

"Sorry Lamont," smiled Matthew, "we got a bit carried away. You know how things are with us engines coming back from the front lines!"

"Well of course," sighed Lamont, "Just be more careful. Gregory was delayed with steaming up earlier and his train was suppose to be on this track."

Matthew gaped. "Well, we will be more careful next time then! Shouldn't have an accident here."

"Indeed," replied Lamont, "Excuse me, But you won't mind telling your Class 28 here to shunt some of the vans in your train into a siding, east side of the base please? Another engine will tell him where to put them, a Great Western 850 Class will tell him where to shunt them."

"Alright," said Matthew, "you heard that Jim?"

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, I was pretty tired. Hoping for a rest, but I guess Lamont would be busy with shunting the rest of our train.

Matthew and I were soon uncoupled from both each other and the train, and soon enough I was shunting some of vans to the other side of the base. Our base was next to the sea, so it had engines coming from Britain to fight in the war. There was another batch also coming, apparently, there had been a lot more engines destroyed at that time, even though it was hidden from us engines at the base, or any other base in France containing engines, just so we wouldn't panic or lose ourselves with grief and anger.

The new batch of engines had come when Matthew and I went to take the first train to the front lines, so when I first saw some of them, they were getting repainted with R.O.D. I found the Class 850, told me where to shunt the vans, I did what I was ordered and was just about to go back to the other side of the base, when I heard laughing.

I looked over to see some of the engines at the base, all huddled with each, facing the same direction as me. I raised one of my eyebrows and puffed over, I soon realised the engines had came here on the same boat as me. They finding something hilarious and I found out what.

As I puffed up, on a track nearby them, I saw an Great Eastern D56 Class tender engine facing them. She looked embarrassed and a little worried.

"Why don't you go back to Britain? Where you belong sugar," laughed a GER G58.

"Well I can't," said the D56, "I've been told I'll be an exception here."

"An exception?" said a MR 2000 Class tank engine, "You'll be the exception of being our mascot!"

The engines laughed.

"What's going on here?" I asked, seeing it all.

"Nothing," said the G58, "Now shove off."

"Why should I?" I asked.

"Because if you don't I'll push you and your stinking tender into the sea!" threatened the D56.

"Pah!" I snorted, "You wouldn't dare do that to me!"

"Oh yeah," growled the G58, "I'll show you it!"

I just rolled my eyes. "Sure mate," I said, "Now leave her alone."

"I'm warning you!"

"You more like trying to scare and it's not working," I replied.

The G58 said nothing, then began to reverse. I watched him as he and the other engines puffed backwards, following him. I then looked over to the D56, who looked at me crossly.

"I had that under control," she said.

"Totally," I said.

"I did an-look behind you!"

My driver looked back to see the G58 getting ready to bash behind into me. Grinning widely. My crew and I was about to act when I heard that strange, familiar whistle.

Matthew came rolling up next to the engines. I couldn't hear Matthew properly but he sound angry and the engines left, looking very skittish.

Matthew then came up next to me. Following him was the LYR Class 5, Michael. Matthew stared at the D56, then looked over her and went back to look at her in the face.

"So your that female engine that got mixed up with the papers and got transported here, am I correct?"

"Correct," replied The D56.

"What's your name?" asked Matthew.

"Molly, from the Great Eastern Railway."

Matthew pondered for a second. His face could tell that he was having difficulties of what to do with her. He then looked back at her.

"If that is okay," he started, "would you be able to stay here?"

"I think I can cope," came the reply.

"Good," said Matthew, "Come on Michael back to work. Jim, show Molly around, and no getting into fights with the other engines!"

Matthew and Michael then puffed back down the line. I looked over back at Molly, who stared at me back.

"Come on then!" I said, "Better do as what the higher-upper says!"

I started to reversed back down the line with Molly following me. I showed her around the base, showing her where the yards and depots are, and explained what we would do when told to do a task.

Molly got it down quickly. She listened to every detail. Other engines would stare at us as we puffed around the base. You see, female engines weren't viewed well before the First World War, they were seen as weak and the government thought they would be 'more worsen by the war'. In other words, they thought they would become more traumatised and more quickly compared to male engines.

Anyways, Molly explained to me that she came here for that she was suppose to go and help on another part of her railway, the Great Eastern Railway. But something went wrong in the paperwork, and she was mistaken to be one of her brothers. Who was going to the base, and by the time the men realised, she was already on the ship, halfway over the English Channel.

Once I had finished with showing her around the base. We went back to the sidings, Michael and Noel were waiting there. Noel looked at Molly with a raised eyebrow.

"I never had thought until this day," he said, "That mankind would mistake a female engine for being a male!"

Some of the engines nearby us chuckled. Molly then glared at Noel. And to my shock, Noel quickly subsided his jokes. Michael then spoke up.

"It's very nice to meet you Molly," he said kindly, "I'm Michael."

"Very nice to meet you too Michael," replied Molly sweetly.

I immediately butted in. "You can say Michael is the one that likes everything his way," I said.

Michael glared at me. "That's because my way is the best one!" he retorted, "You swank around like you own the place!"

"Pah!" I snorted, "I do not!"

"Prove that you don't then," smirked Michael.

"...Shut it you halfwit!"

"Halfwit! Why you-"

"Be quite all!" Matthew ordered as he came into the sidings, "I prefer a good night of rest, and I don't want to be woken by you two making insults at each other."

Michael and I both thought it was best to listen to Matthew and subsided, and after a few minutes later the night took me away.

*

"Noel! Take this train would you!"

"I don't see why!" Noel yelled back at a GCR 8K.

"Because I said so," replied the 8K roughly, "you're the only engine available and they need this supply at the front lines!"

"Oh please-"

"NOEL YOU'VE BEEN DOING THIS FOR TWO YEARS!" yelled the 8K. "JUST TAKE THE TRAIN!"

Noel jolted back and then puffed away, grudgingly. The 8K watched him go. Molly and I had watched the entire thing, we both looked at each.

"It's Noel," I said.

"Fair point," Molly replied, "Have gotten message from Matthew yet?"

"Nobody has," I said, "But I have heard he's at the western front."

"I hope he's doing okay. We need more engines like him."

"What, weird?"

My face suddenly met steam. I coughed and spluttered until it died down. "Hey!" I yelled, "I was joking!"

"Whatever," said Molly and rolled her eyes.

Then Noel came puffing back into the yards and came next to me.

"Hey James!"

"Jim."

"Whatever," he said, "Did you see what that stupid 8K Thomas ordered me to do?"

"Well, he is higher up," said Molly.

Noel glared at Molly and looked back at me. "Yeah I need you to help me with taking the train to the front lines."

"Why?" I asked.

"Well... it's ummm... I'll tell you whilst we get there. We're losing time as it is! Come on!"

And Noel puffed quickly away. I sighed and rolled my eyes. I then left Molly to go with Noel to pull the train. When I puffed up next to Noel, who was now being coupled up to the train.

"All right, why do you need me?"

"The trains too heavy for me."

"Pfff," I sniggered.

"Shut it you!"

"What! Could me honest in front of Molly. I mean, the chances of you and... her is like, well... it's impossible!"

"...Just for that, you're gonna be my back engine."

"What?"

"You heard, now get to the back of the train!"

"Ugh." I then reversed to the back of the train. Lamont then came up with the break van.

"No need for it Lamont!" I called, "I'm being a back engine for this trip."

Lamont came to a stop, stared at the break van in front and groan after a second or two. I soon buffered up behind the train of vans and open wagons. I then whistle to notify that I was ready and Noel started, with me railing behind.

"Are you enjoying yourself back there?" yelled Noel. I was just in hearing shot for me to here him clearly.

"Yeah!" I called, "Just enough."

"You know?" called Noel, "I think I could have a shot with getting the ladies when we get back!"

"You're kidding, right?" I said, chuckling to myself.

"Yeah!" Noel replied, "Once we return to England. Back in our sheds in Preston. We'll be heroes! Those cowards back there will soon understand what they were making off back home! And the ladies! Well, they will come after us just to see our shiny honour plates, given my the government themselves!"

"That's if we'd survive this hell hole!" I said.

"Pah! Don't say that!" called Noel, "We'll make it! Both of us! We've been working here for what? Almost three years? We'll be back in Britain! Don't worry! Oka-"

The blast hit him hard.

He flew off the rails with flames and sparks coming out the side of his boiler. Some of the vans behind him followed him off the line. Once he landed onto the ground, he skidded along it and hit a dead tree. With some of it's remains flying all over the place once he hit it. I felt the jerk of the trucks and came to stop almost straight away. Once the dust settled, I looked to see Noel, laying on his side, a hole in his boiler, too big not for an engine to handle.

I knew then. Noel wasn't getting up from that hit.

I couldn't breath. I couldn't hear anything. Everything I could see became a blur, everything I could hear was replaced with a ringing, going down my funnel and hitting the insides of my smokebox. Nothing came to me, for a few seconds. Until my driver banged the side of my cab.

"Jim! We have to go now!"

I looked down to where I saw my fireman uncouple me to my train. I then began to reverse slowly enough so that my fireman could climb back into my cab. I picked up the pace, just before another missile hit the tail end of the train. Making the rear vans come off the rails. I watched in shock as they crumbled down to the ground.

I puffed away, leaving the train and Noel behind. I didn't stop until I got back too the base. I kept breathing heavily as I came to holt, wheels locked before I came to a stop.

The 8K then came up to me. "What's going on?" he yelled, "Jim! You should've been at the front lines with Noel! Why are you back? And where is Noel?!"

I kept on breathing heavily, until Lamont and another tank engine came up.

"Sir," said Lamont, "I think he's in shock."

The 8K looked at me carefully, I just stared forward, still panting.

"I see," said the 8K, "Harrison! Go up the line with some reinforcements!"

"Yes sir!" yelled what looked like a tender engine.

"Lamont, take Jim back to the sidings," continued the 8K, "I'll talk to him later about what happened."

"Yes sir," replied Lamont quietly, he slowly buffered up to me and took me away.

*

"Hey Jim."

I said nothing.

"...Are you alright?"

I refuse too.

"You shouldn't blame yourself."

"And what I shouldn't?" I bursted out.

Matthew looked at me sadly. "I didn't know Noel as much as you do," he said.

"Because he was one of my closest friends?"

"Yes of course!" Matthew said.

"Noel just went! Just like that! Gone! Just like that! He got a missile, shot into his boiler! Just... like... that..."

"I know, I saw the hole scene," replied Matthew solemnly.

"I should've been at the front instead of Noel, I should've at least been..."

"Don't say that."

"AND WHY NOT?!?!?!"

"Because what happened, happened," said Matthew, "You cannot change the past."

"And what? Just grieve forever?"

"No, not forever," replied Matthew, "Grieving helps most of the time. But you have to except it, and move on."

"And forget about Noel?"

"No. Except what had happened, move on from all the thousand ways Noel could've still been here. What's happened, happened. And we move on from that."

I sat in the siding. Thinking this over, as Matthew watched on. Just then, a LNWR Dock Tank came storming in.

"The United States are at war with Germany!" he cried.

I looked up. Wide eyed. Matthew looked at the Dock Tank in shock. "How?" he demanded.

"Germany tried to send a message to Mexico and asked them to attack the USA!" cried the Dock Tank, "But fortunately, us Brits manage to capture the telegram and we gave it too the Americans. They're sending troops now and won't be here until three weeks."

There's a long silence. Matthew sniffed, I thought he was about to cry, but I looked to see him with a small smirk on his lips. I felt a bit silly, after all, Matthew had never cried or had a mental breakdown.

"Does General Alexander know?" he asked.

"Yes," wheeshed the Dock Tank, "He and the rest of the generals are having a meeting now."

Matthew pursed his lips. "Alright, we better make sure the Americans get here safely."

"That might be all well and all," said the Dock Tank, "But the Germans won't be that frilled. Won't they?"

Matthew pondered this. "You might be right," he said, "I'll talk this through with the generals."

Matthew then looked back at me. "You'll be fine Jim," he said. He then looked back at the Dock Tank. "Continue as you were."

He then puffed away, whilst the Dock Tank went back to work. I stayed where I was, pondering on what Matthew had said.

It was next morning until my crew returned and steamed me up. I left the siding and went back to work. I found Molly and Michael. Who were talking with each other. Both gasped when they saw me.

"Jimmy! Are you alright?" asked Molly quickly.

"Yeah," I murmured. I then looked at Michael who looked at me. His eyes looked bloodshot.

"Noel-"

"I know, I know," interrupted Michael, "I'm-I'm sorry."

"Thank you," I replied.

We then looked over to Matthew who came rushing up. "Engines!" he yelled, "The Germans are now starting to attack our troops! We must go and defend them!"

"What?" exclaimed Michael, "How? Why?"

"Maybe they got word that the Americans are on their way," said Molly, "They'll be given it all they've got before they arrive!"

"Exactly Molly," agreed Matthew.

"What should we do then?" I asked willingly.

"We'll be defending until the Americans get here," replied Matthew, "That way when they do, we'll be making the final blow."

"So wait," I started, "We'll just be defending!"

"It's the best option," Matthew said sternly, "We might loose land and we'd be loosing soldiers. But we'd take it back. Now, Michael, Molly. Both of you'll stay here and defend this base. We'd might've well try and slow them down here too. Jim, you and I will be heading to the front lines with a few others. Got it?"

"Yes Matthew," I replied, "What shall I take?"

"Gunpowder," Matthew informed me, "You'll be doing it with me. Come on!"

But just as Matthew and I were about to get up

to speed. There was a loud bang and yelp from the war engine,

"What's wrong?" I asked frantically.

"Ugh, burst safety valve," groaned Matthew.

"But we need you!" I exclaimed, "I can't pull the gunpowder by myself!"

"I know you can't," said Matthew, "We'll just have to improvise."

"Improvise!?"

"Yeah," replied Matthew calmly, he looked around the base. His dark blue eyes scammed the hole place. He then stopped looking around and his eyes stared away.

"You there! Brighton engine!"

*

"I can't do it!"

"Come on... Lamont was it?"

"Yes."

"You have no choice."

"But I have never came out of these yards before!" exclaimed Lamont, "I haven't pulled a single train to the front lines! You know what happens when a tank engine goes out there!"

"I do," replied Matthew, "But now, you have to take my place."

Lamont sighed. After a moments paused, he finally spoke up. "Alright," he said quietly, "I'll do it."

"Thank you," said Matthew, as Michael - Matthew was facing the other direction from all of us - buffered up to him from behind. "I'll explain how to pull them whilst we get you ready."

Lamont was coupled at the front of the train, whilst I was coupled at the back. Matthew had explained to me a few years back that tenders were the most lightest thing on a train, and when at war, the tender engine should always be at the back of the train. 'Efficiency' he said.

A soldier then blew his whistle and I shoved the train forward. "Hey!" yelled Lamont, "Watch it back there!"

"Yeah, yeah," I said, "Now come on!"

We were soon rumbling along the line. Going along the line at a thunderous rate. We manage to get to the front lines in about fifteen minutes. I was shocked by how much the Germans were giving the British and French troops. Missiles were going everywhere and German soldier were running straight towards the allies trenches. It was an awful site. Then I saw an engine I hadn't seen in ages.

"Nigel!" I cried out.

"Hmm-what? Jimmy?" cried the 8K, "What are you doing here?"

"I can ask you the same question!" I yelled back as I was uncoupled from my train.

"Been at the western fronts," replied Nigel, "Matthew wanted an engine to come with him back here and I volunteered. Didn't expect to go straight into the front lines so quickly."

"Indeed," I sighed.

I was about to find out what I was going to pull next, when missiles came pouring down. They landed into the trenches, blowing everything up, one even hit the rails in front of Lamont. German troops began to appear from the most.

"RETREAT!!" yelled an officer.

"GO!" yelled another to us engines, "THE THREE OF YOU! GET BACK TO THE BASE AND CALL FOR BACKUP!!"

"Right," obliged Nigel, "Come on! Let's get out of here!"

"I'm right behind you!" I called back.

We then backed away from the front lines and headed back to base. We thundered down the lines, tender first.

"I WISH I TOOK MATTHEW'S ADVICE ON GOING TENDER FIRST TO THE BATTLEFIELD NOW!!" I called to Nigel.

"INDEED!!" Nigel called back.

Then suddenly, we began to hear a buzzing noise. It was getting louder and louder and louder. I looked up to see a plane flying above.

"That's not one of ours!" exclaimed Nigel, "Wheel it!"

My driver put on full throttle and I picked up speed as we headed back to the base. I then saw Lamont racing back down the line in front of me. The plane loomed above. I looked in terror as we all ran back down the line. It started shouting at us.

"Hurry!" yelled Nigel from behind me.

My wheels ached, but I had no choice but to continue.

"The base!" yelled my fireman, "I can see it!"

I sighed in relief. But as Nigel, Lamont and I came to the final stretch. Our allies' guns started to fire at the German plane. But then, a missile got dropped down from it. It hit the tracks, blowing it up. The sheer impact caught Lamont, and he got knocked into the air and tipped over to the ground. Sliding through the dirt and coming to a stop, right in front of the gates to the base. A gun manage to destroy the plane, and it came flying down to the ground and flew into some trees nearby.

Nigel and I came to stop. I gasped in shock. Not Lamont too. Even though I didn't talk to him much, he was always there. Shunting my trains and new engines to get repainted. Now he was gone, as well as his crew too. I breathed heavily.

"Nigel? Jimmy?"

I opened my eyes to see Molly coming up to me slowly. "What happened? I heard an explosion and-"

She came off her sentence as she looked over to see Lamont, in a small cloud of steam, hissing everywhere on his side. I looked back at Molly, I thought she start to cry, like all typical female engines. But she didn't, only a tear came down her, her lower lip trembled slightly.

"Lamont, he fought so well," she whispered.

I then heard noises from the front of the gates.

"The Germans have broken through the front lines!" yelled an officer to a general, "Soldiers are retreating back here!"

"Then send them here! Reinstate the defences, and make sure that the Germans don't get through!" yelled the general.

It took a few minutes. But soon, Germans began to arrive. Some in trucks, some on horses, some on foot.

The horses galloped their way towards us. Machine guns began to fire on them. Some were hit and fell to the ground, whilst others kept on going.

I watched in shock as Germans fell to ground. Red liquid coming out of them. I then remembered something.

"Molly," I said, "Where is Matthew?"

Molly looked at me in shock. "He's at the back of the sidings."

I then reversed backwards back to Matthew to check if he was alright. Molly called after me, but it still didn't stop me. I had already seen the planes beginning to shadow over the base.

I rushed backwards, with tank engines and tender engines all going into sidings or shunting trucks or machinery. Some getting ready to evacuate the base.

I then found Matthew. Sitting in a siding, next to a fuel tank. My eyes widen, thinking of what could happen.

"Matthew!" I called.

Matthew's eyes came upon me. He looked concerned, and slightly relieved. "Thank god you're alright," he said.

"Thank you," I replied, "But we have to get you away from the that tank!"

"Germans have invaded," said Matthew casually, "I prefer to retreat. All the generals know that they'll losing men here, whilst the Germans are given it all they've got before the Americans arrive."

"Yes, yes. Now come on!"

I rammed into him. And pushed him backwards, further away from the fuel tank. But it was too late. A German plane launched a missile for above. Hitting a perfect shot at the tank. It exploded, the impact must've been worst of what Lamont had felt, we were shoved further back by the force and came off the rails. My tender when into Matthew's bridge of his nose. Whilst flying, a piece of metal came hitting the left side of my cheek. And we both came back down to the ground, hitting the ground fiercely, and sliding across the concrete a bit.

I was in too much pain to cope. And the world went into darkness.

*

"They're knocked out!"

"Then do something then!"

*

"Send them back. They're too damage."

*

"I'm going to miss them. I really will."

"Won't we all?"

*

I woke up, slowly to a bright white light. The light slowly faded and it was replaced by the looks of the inside of a workshop. I groaned, I felt a bit terrible, but alright.

"He's awake! The Class 28 is awake!"

Three men came up next to me. Covered in ragged clothes and dark, sweaty coal dust. They looked like they were past 50, so they would've not been allowed to go to war. I stared at them, as they stared at me back. They then turned their backs to me and began to talk to each other. After a few minutes they turned back to me.

"Hullo No.12602," said one of the workmen, "Welcome back to Horwich works."

My eyes widen at this. Back where I was built? Back in my homeland? Away from France?

"Why am the here, and... not there?" I demanded.

A few seconds of silence came. Until one of the workmen spoke up. "You were seriously damaged," he said, "Your undercarriage was in near ruins, almost hitting your smokebox, you had a dented boiler and your tender was in a bit tattered too. You were too damage to be repaired at your base in France."

"What happened once I passed out?" I asked urgently, "Did they manage to stop the Germans?"

One of the workmen shook his head, and I started to go pale.

"There were too many Germans apparently," said the workman, "They retreated though and manage to stop get any further, a few miles later."

"I say it was a success with the retreats," said one, nodding his head along, "Not many soldiers, horses or engines got killed or destroyed."

"Who came back here with me?" I asked.

"Ahh," said the first workman, "there was an London and Brighton, South Coast Railway E4 tank engine. But he only came back for he had metal stuck on the bridge of his nose and it's better to have surgery here than in the battlefield. He'll be going back to France by now."

"And there was another one of the Brighton's. A D1 is was."

"Lamont's alive?" I whispered to myself.

"Excuse me?" said the second workman.

"Nothing!" I said quickly.

The men nodded. Silence came over us again. I then realised something, I felt a bit different than I use to be. I asked what they had done to me, and they grinned at me.

"Well," started the third workman, "Whilst mending you. The CME of this railway came to us and gave us some drawings. They showed some modifications to your original shape."

"What modifications did they do to me?" I asked.

"Well, we only gave you a 2-6-0 configuration," said the second, "slightly adjusted controlled in your cab. That's all!"

"The only thing we need to improve on would be your breaks," said the first, "But I'm sure they'll be fine by the time we'll fix them up!"

"Alright," said the second workman, "well, we'd best go back to work now. Shan't we?"

Two then walked away. The last one stayed behind a bit to say one last thing to me. "R.O.D. officers are coming to see you tomorrow," he said, "so best be ready."

And he walked away, I sighed deeply and began to try and look over my new modifications the workshop gave me.

*

The R.O.D. officers came the next day as expected. I watched two of them as they came up to me, with and suitcases and boards. They all looked very smart.

"So No.12602 it is from the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, formally numbered as No.1289 in the Railway Operation Division, is that correct?" said the first officer.

"Yes," I replied.

"Name please?" asked the first officer after writing something down on his board.

I paused for a moment. "James," I replied.

The first officer wrote another thing down. "Alright then James," he said, "You'll explain to us what you did in the war and how you got here. Do not make any lies."

"Yes sir," I replied, and I began. I told them about when I was taken to France, to when I went to front lines, when I first met Matthew and Molly. Noel's death, and the battle I was last in. Once I was finished, the officers had finished writing something's down on their boards.

"Thank you James," said the second officer, "You have done sacrifices and have fought nobly. You'll be getting a Services if British Locomotives Plate put on you tomorrow with the Commitment Level Two. Thank you for telling us this James."

And the two officers left.

I was given the plates the next day like they promised and I was out of the works in no time. I was given tests next to see if I've improved on my original design. I had. But not as much as they suspected, so plans for modifying my siblings were scrapped. I was taken back to my original region. I wasn't given a hero's welcome like Noel had said. I just had to continue on. I wasn't allowed back to France and more than one year later, the war had ended. I didn't know what happened to Molly, Nigel, Lamont and Matthew. Michael didn't return to the region's sheds either. Some engines didn't even return to Britain like Noel, but had still pulled their own weight, even some of the engines were built to pull passenger services.

I hope to never experience what happened in France again. I think every man and engine hopes not too.

But the main question is this. Why do I go with my full name now? Simple, since Noel always teased me by calling me that name, I think it was best to call myself my full name now, so to commemorate his life and career.

And even though I was left in a siding for a long time in the mid-1920s. I was found my Matthew. I didn't think he was real, but he was, the only difference was him having a long dark scar going across the bridge of his nose. He promised me that he'll get me to the Island Of Sodor, where I'll be safe. I asked him why. He responded with one line that I always remembered.

"You are an engine that was a soldier."

~fin~


	12. Ep11: Aftermath

1933, the year was that no engine likes to talk about that much who was on the North Western. You see, I've only been on this railway for eight years, but it feels like I've known all the engines already. Thomas, the tank engine that helped me on my first day here. Edward, the engine who showed me the basics of pulling passenger trains, wise guy. Henry and Gordon, two blue engines bigger than me. Arrogant engines they are. Eagle, he's similar to me he is. He's got the same modified configuration with a 2-6-0 instead of a 0-6-0 unlike his classmates. Just like me. And the rest, Colin, Clyde, Neil, Lily, Adam. All gone. Taken away to the smelters at Suddery.

The board of directors wanted this. They wanted all the older engines that were here before the merger on Sodor to be scrapped. 'Modernise the railway!' They all said. The Fat Controller declined, but they then sold the engine without our controller's permission. Sent away to the scrapyard and cut up. All except Neil, who was preserved and taken away to someplace in England. I didn't know them as well as the others. Thomas was having it rough too.

I don't have any eventful stories to tell you about me and the older engines. But the others did and told me some. When Edward was taught how to shunt trucks by Roger. When Gordon first met Adam. To when Henry and Lily had their first conversation after the green engine got out of the tunnel, and when Thomas first got his branch line. I'll be telling you these stories in the order I gave you. So let us begin.

1915

Edward was sitting nicely at a water tower, refilling for his next train. When the yard foreman came up.

"What's the matter?" asked Edward's driver.

"Roger has been trapped by broken points!" called the foreman, "Can you go and shunt some trucks for Emily's next train?"

"Sure, I guess," Edward's driver replied, "What's the train?"

"It's a supply train, it is needed at Crosby," informed the foreman.

"Right," said the driver, as the foreman walked away, Edward's driver turned to him. "Come on old boy! We've got shunting to do!"

"Umm... okay then," said Edward, but secretly he was nervous.

Once he got to the yard he saw Roger in a siding with some open wagons, in front of him were workmen, trying to mend the broken points that were against Roger.

The Neilson tank engine saw Edward and smiled warmly. "Hullo," he said, "It's nice to see someone is available to shunt before Emily arrives. She has a tight schedule today so I she would go bonkers if her train was ready for her."

"Oh dear," I said sarcastically, "I better hurry up before she slams some wagons into me then!"

Roger chuckled at Edward's joke. "Just get on with it! You need three vans, ten wagons of ballast. Three flatbeds each of rails and sleepers. And that's your train!"

"Right," said Edward, going over the type of trucks needed in his head, "I'll go and find them then."

He then puffed off. He then eventually found the three vans in a siding. He buffered up to them.

"Come on then!" he called to them, "Let's get you to your train."

But the vans were comfortable, and didn't want to be moved.

"Who's this?" said one.

"He looks like that red engine," said the second, "But he's looks to off putting to be him!"

The other two laughed. Edward wheeshed steam crossly. "I beg your pardon!"

"You heard fat eagle!" said the van at the front.

"How dare you!" Edward exclaimed.

"Oh what are you gonna do? Cry?" They laughed again.

Edward sighed and puffed away back to Roger. The Neilson tank was surprised to see Edward return.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"How can you shunt?" asked Edward.

"W-what do you mean by that?" asked Roger, stammering a bit from the pure shock of hearing that from Edward.

"I-I've never shunted before," Edward said sheepishly.

Roger smiled. "Well, at least your admitting it," he said, "Then let me give you a quick teaching."

Edward looked back at Roger and smiled. "Thank you."

"Nah, don't mention it," said Roger, "Now let me think... ah yes, first, you must be patient and don't rush, you must do the obvious and not agitate the trucks, this will cause them to refuse to move. But be strict and only bump them when needed. It's best to keep empty wagons at the back so to not have them derailed when squished between you and the trucks. Now go off with ya!"

Edward obliged and dashed away. He arranged the trucks into the order Roger told him to do, was strict with the vans when going back to them and did the same with the other trucks. He arranged the trucks, from heaviest to lightest and had just shunted a break van onto the train, when he heard a blast of a whistle.

"Ahh," smiled Edward, "That must be Emily."

It was, the stirling single puffed in and back down onto the train. "Ohh, thank you Rog-" her words were lost by stammers and splutters as Edward came up next to her.

"Edward?!" Emily said finally, "Where's Roger?"

"Point failure got him trapped," smiled Edward, "So I took his place with shunting. Roger gave me a lesson, sort of."

Emily chuckled. "Little Thomas won't like hearing that you got to shunt trucks before he did!" she said, "He'll be in envy."

"Yeah, well," smiled Edward, "Lets just keep that between us three."

"Understandable," agreed Emily, the guard blew the whistle, Emily whistled back, and puffed out of the yard.

Edward returned back to Roger. Who was now freed from the points.

"Thank you Roger," smiles Edward.

Roger beamed up at Edward. "No, thank you."

*

Roger was a very notable character. He wasn't a loud mouth like Clyde, but wasn't quite quiet as Neil. He was always a chatterbox when you begin to talk to him. A bit stubborn at times, but that's how it goes.

*

Gordon was resting in a siding. He had a busy day, he had an argument with Alfred about the express and had to make up for lost time because of him losing time for the petty subject. He was dozing in a siding when he heard an unfamiliar whistle.

He just shrugged it off. "It's probably a visiting engine from the mainland," he said to himself quietly.

Then the sounds of puffing got louder and louder and louder. Then the screech of breaks came on, Gordon decided to open his eyes to see a red tank engine stare at him with wide eyes.

Gordon jumped. "Gah!" he said, "W-What?"

The red tank engine looked like a London South Western design. The radial tank engine. And he glared at Gordon even more.

"You're," he started, "You're in my siding."

"You're siding?" Gordon raised an eyebrow at that.

"Yes. My siding," said the radial tank.

"Sorry," blinked Gordon, focusing from his dozing. "Who are you?"

"My names Adam, I run the line that goes to Norramby."

"Oh? Ohhh," realised the big engine, "So you're the pompous brat I keep hearing about from Henry."

Adam gritted his teeth. "I. Am. Not. Pompous."

"Yeah. Sure chum," said Gordon, "Now leave a grand engine like myself to rest. We are more important than common tank engines."

"Common am I?" fumed Adam. He then wheeshed steam at Gordon.

The big engine spluttered and stammered whilst blinking his eyes open into the hot steam.

"Oi!" exclaimed Gordon angrily, "How dare you do that to me!"

"Then you should leave my siding, otherwise you'll be having steam in your face for the rest of your life."

Gordon narrowed his eyes, he then sighed. "Do that, you'll be behind my express, being towed along until Crovan's Gate."

Adam raised a brow. Then hurled in laughter. "Don't be daft, you'll never dare! Now move!"

"Fine. Have it your way," said Gordon, and he pulled out of the siding. Adam smirked proudly as the big engine puffed away.

*

I let you think of what happened next. After all, we'd be here all day explaining the full story, and I did say I was only going to tell you how Gordon and Adam met.

Even though Gordon never got along with Adam and vice versa. Both did splendidly in their roles on the railway. Sadly though, a year into the Great Depression, Adam's Branch Line was threatened to close, so The Fat Controller decided to make a deal with the LMS again and allow them to run the branch line. The LMS didn't have plans to own partially Adam though, and he was just put at the back of the shed, until that fateful day when he was taken to Suddery Scrapyard.

*

1925

Henry was parked outside the sheds at Tidmouth - it was around the time the headquarters for the North Western moved from Vicarstown, to Tidmouth - he wasn't feeling too well and had to be taken off duties and was replaced by Simon. He was waiting for some cleaners, when an LSWR O2 class tank engine came beside him.

"Hullo," smiled Henry, "I believe we've not met before. I'm Henry, and your's is?"

Henry trailed off, expecting a reply for a name. He already knew her name, Lily. The engine who ran the Arlesborough branch line. But he'd had heard or seen her. Lily was glancing away, her eyebrows furrowed in. Henry raised one of his own.

"Sorry," he restarted, "Did I... offend you?"

"You bloody well did!" exclaimed Lily, making Henry jump in shock.

"H-How?" asked Henry.

Lily stared at Henry. Pondering her thoughts for a second. "It doesn't matter," she said and with a wheesh of steam, she puffed away from Henry. Leaving the blue hybrid perplexed.

The cleaners then came up to Henry.

"What's up mate?" asked one, "Did the old vintage lady spook ya or somethin'?"

"No," replied Henry, "Not at all. Not at all."

*

Lily wasn't depicted as nice towards Henry. Nobody really knew why she'd not like Henry. But she was always nice to others and a hard worker. She was taken the night before the others, we didn't think nothing of it. The Fat Controller said she was just at the works being mended, but for some reason, we didn't believe him.

*

1925

Thomas was eager. He had a full passenger train ready and waiting at the top station. He was very pleased. He had finally finished learning the basics on Lily's branch line, and now a coffee-pot engine named Glynn was showing him how to run this branch line. Now, Thomas was with his faithful coaches, Annie and Clarabel. He was waiting for the guards whistle to blew. But the stationmaster came walking up to his cab.

"What is it?" asked Thomas' driver.

"Glynn is delayed at the Anopha quarry," replied the stationmaster, "So I'm afraid you have to take a mix-train."

"A mix-train?" said Thomas, "What's that?"

"It's a train that takes both passengers and goods," replied the guard, "It only happens when it's the only option."

"And this is the only option," sighed Thomas, "Well, better get it then."

When Thomas began his trip with the mix-train. The passengers complained endlessly. The trucks didn't make the ride easier either and Annie and Clarabel were left in their sheds twittering crossly to each about the insults they were given to them. Thomas only grumbled. Glynn could tell the young tank engine was upset.

"What's wring Thomas?" he asked.

"It's those mix-trains!" exclaimed Thomas in response. "The passengers wouldn't stop complaining! The trucks didn't make the ride comfortable and it's-it's...!"

Thomas scowled and looked down at buffers furiously. Glynn chuckled lightly and smiled at the frustrated engine.

"Don't be cross about it," he said, "I know a thing or two about mix-trains and they are not really the best thing railways have come up with. But sometimes you just have except that and move on."

Silence ran across the sheds. "I'll teach you about them tomorrow, if that's alright with you?"

Thomas smiles back. "Thanks," he said. Silence came across the sheds again. And the two engines fell to sleep.

*

Glynn was a coffee-pot engine. He was the few older engines that all the engines knew off. Yeah, not all the engines knew each other at that time. Most of the engines only knew each other by being stationed at the same sheds, or by guaranteed-connections with other trains on the branch lines.

But there you go. Those are a few stories of what happened to us when the older engines were still around. But life is life and you must move forward.

Still, it took a long time to move on.


	13. Ep12: Strikes, Bankruptcies & Runaways

**~1934~**

"We're on strike sir!"

The Fat Controller raised an eyebrow. "Explain?"

"Ever since Thomas have left his duty as station pilot, there hasn't been a designated tank engine for this role. And now that... some engines are gone we are forced to work like common tank engines! It's... it's disgraceful!"

"Disgusting!"

"Despicable!"

The Fat Controller sighed. "What do you want me to do then?"

"Get another tank engine and deal with this mess," I said.

"I can't right now, you know the board of directors are struggling with getting a new member and I can't just go gallivanting off to buy engines," replied The Fat Controller.

"Well then," said Henry, "We won't move until another engine fetches our coaches then."

Gordon and I agreed.

The Fat Controller began to think for a second. "Fine then," he said, "I'll find another engine to do the job."

He then walked to his car and sighed. "Things aren't the same anymore," he said as he drove to Edward's Branch Line.

*

Edward eventually arrived to help with shunting in the yards. Emily was loaned to work on his branch line for the time being and the blue engine began to work with being a temporary station pilot.

He did an alright job. Not going to lie there. But for us, it wasn't right for a tender engine to shunt.

"He should be supporting us," complained Henry, "Not making our point disproven!"

"Then let's make sure he doesn't get in our way," said Gordon firmly. He then told us what we were going to do. Both Henry and I were a bit cautious of this scheme but didn't say anything about it.

That night, Edward joined us at the sheds. It wasn't worth him going back to his own sheds. We all knew that, and made own voices heard to the blue engine.

When all the crews left and locked us up for the night. Gordon spoke. "What are you doing?"

Edward looked over. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"We are trying to prove to The Fat Controller that tender engines don't shunt," said Henry, "And you are against us."

"Why can't tender engines shunt?" Edward said defensive, "Yes, tank engines are better at shunting. But tender engines can shunt."

"Pah," I said, "Lies."

"You should know James," said Edward, "After all. You were in-"

"Don't you say it!" I said, raising my voice.

Gordon and Henry both looked at me. "Say what?"

"It doesn't matter," I replied. Then I glared at Edward. "Tender engines don't shunt you black wheeled bastard."

Edward looked stunned. He didn't say anything after that. And slowly went to sleep. I didn't know what to think after that, but I was still furious at Edward for almost making a comment about my past in France.

The next day, when Edward was resting outside. Waiting for a timetable of trains that needed to be shunted. Gordon, Henry and I were still in the shed. I was the first to leave and when puffing pasting the blue engine I wheeshed a cloud of steam at him.

Edward coughed and spluttered. I smirked as Gordon and Henry snickered in the sheds.

When returning to the yards that midday. I saw Gordon wheeshing steam as he went past Edward. I smiled, both were doing the same, and I was pleased.

I then saw The Fat Controller nearby who saw the hole experience and he walked over to Edward, who was looking depressed. I scoffed, Edward never really took things seriously like engines being rude to him but this must've been getting to him. After all, now that the older engines were gone, we were all a bit sensitive.

I puffed to the turntable to turn around and get a drink. I would be going soon with my mix-goods.

Meanwhile, at the other side of the yards. The Fat Controller was talking to Edward.

"I don't know why they're doing this," replied Edward, "I mean, I'm only doing what you've ordered me to do."

"I know Edward, don't take any notice to them," replied The Fat Controller, "But you still have to stay here until the board get a new member. Ever since Mr Henson has left, we've been struggling with the amount of money. But I'll see what I can do. Perhaps buying another engine will do some good."

Edward didn't say anything as The Fat Controller left in his blue car.

*

"You're proposing us to loan you some money, to buy a new tank engine?"

"Yes," replied The Fat Controller, "I think it would be best. The engines are at it with each other's smoke boxes and I think we need to organise the railway. Shall we not?"

"Indeed Topham," said Mr Regaby, "Mr Henson's money has been a good for somethings. Like that hybrid's paintwork! We need solutions Topham!"

"This is a solution," argued The Fat Controller, "We'd get a new station pilot. And the railway will be tidied up!"

Mr Regaby nodded at this. "It will have to be a small tank engine though," he said, "A few engines will also have to stay in the sheds so to save money."

The Fat Controller nodded. "Of course," he said, "Which workshop do you think I should go to?"

"There's one that sells cheap engines of their own custom," replied Mr Regaby, "They usually buy engines from other companies. Modify them, and sell them cheap, they're very successful and haven't had many complaints. It's located in North Yorkshire. Go there next week."

"Thank you," replied The Fat Controller, gratefully.

Mr Regaby looked at the Controller with a stern glance. "You better be right Topham."

*

The Fat Controller looked all around the shed. Full of tank engines, modified from being from industrial plants or from other railways. Some looked at him anxiously, others looked bold and pride. Big, small. Long or short. None of the engines looked suitable for what The Fat Controller was looking for.

Then, at the side of the shed. Was a small tank engine, with four small driving wheels. His paintwork was a light apple green with a bunker at the back of his cab and a saddle tank going across his boiler.

He looked smart.

"Is that engine up for sale?" asked The Fat Controller curiously.

The manager looked at what the stout gentleman had nodded too. He then glanced back at The Fat Controller with a perplexed look covering his face. "That engine?" he said.

"Yes," replied The Fat Controller, "The saddle tank with green paint. He looks interesting."

The small engine looked down at the two men. Clearly as shocked as the other tank engines.

"M-me Sir?" stammered the small engine.

"Yes," replied The Fat Controller, "You seems like a hard worker. Did they rebuild you?"

"Yes sir, they did sir," said the small engine, "I was originally an Avonside saddle tank engine sir. You know, the small industrial engines the Great Western purchased."

"I see," smiled The Fat Controller.

"He's only been completed two days ago sir," said the manager, "We've finished the test yesterday but we usually don't put them up for sale until a week later."

"Well, I wouldn't mind haven't this one. If that's alright with you?"

The manager blinked. "I'll have to estimate the amounts first then I can give you a number of how much money he is," he informed. The manager then excused himself and left to his office. The Fat Controller followed behind.

An hour later, The Fat Controller came out of the manager's office smiling from ear to ear. He walked back to where the small engine was.

"Welcome to the North Western Railway. My number six," said the stout gentleman.

The small engine beamed brightly. "Thank you sir!" he said loud enough for the engine at the far end to hear him.

"Do you have a name?" chuckled The Fat Controller.

"No sir. Sorry sir." said the small engine sheepishly.

"Well then, I'll call you... Percy."

"Yes sir! Thank you sir!" peeped Percy.

A driver and fireman soon arrived to take Percy back with The Fat Controller and they eventually arrived back at Tidmouth the next morning.

"Edward!" called The Fat Controller to the blue engine nearby. "Here's Percy. Please show him the yards and how to run here."

"Yes sir!" replied Edward. Once the stout gentleman left. Edward looked back at Percy. "Come on then!" he called, "Let's get to work!"

Percy peeped happily.

The small engine was a fast learner. Listening to everything Edward suggesting to do or not to do. When Gordon, Henry and James saw the new engine, they decided to wheesh steam him too.

Henry tried first. But was smack with steam coming everywhere from his right side. He was shocked and scurried back to the shed in a huff. Edward tried hard not to laugh.

"How did you do that," he sniffled, "I can't wheesh like that?"

"Practise in the works," smiled Percy, looking like a spoiled brat, "You have to make wheesh like that so to be heard in the works."

The next day, Thomas arrived to the yard. He puffed up next to Edward, with Percy on the blue engine's other side.

"Ah! Thomas!" called Edward.

"Hullo Edward," Thomas replied, "The Fat Controller sent me here. I guess he wants my help."

The tank engine then looked over to see the small engine on the other side of Edward. "Who's this?"

"Oh! This is Percy. He's going to run the yards now," explained Edward, "And Percy, this here is Thomas. He use to be the station pilot at the original railway headquarters, he now runs his own branch line."

"And I do a mighty good job at it too," said Thomas vainly.

"Shh," said Edward, "The Fat Controller is coming."

All three engines looked over to see the stout gentleman walk over. "Good morning engines," he boomed, "Listen, the reason why you're all here is because I have to inform about some news that have accrued from last night."

"What is it sir?" asked Thomas.

"The railway has been declared bankrupt," declared The Fat Controller, "Ever since the backlog of engines to our fleet we've been struggling with our work, and through out those years, I couldn't buy another engine 'cause of the Great Depression. Percy was brought to help here so to keep things running, but now we're low on money. So I've decided that Gordon, Henry and James will stay put in the shed and will only work in the yards if needed. It'll teach them a lesson about common tank engines and tender engines shunting."

"Common tank engines!" wheeshed Thomas.

"That's where you three come in," continued The Fat Controller, "Edward and Thomas, you two will work the mainline. Taking passengers, goods and mix-train services."

"Yes sir!" whistled the blue and tank engines.

"What about me sir?" asked Percy.

"You'll be working on Thomas' branch line."

"Oh yes sir! Thank you sir!" peeped Percy excitedly.

"Right that is all engines, timetables will be given to you by the yard foreman, Mr Drake in a few minutes, good day."

"Common tank engines, indeed!" cried out Thomas, "I'll show them!"

"We will Thomas," said Edward, "But let us get ready, this is going to be a rough few weeks."

*

Henry, Gordon and I sat sad and alone in the sheds. Doors lock and only the light from the outside poured through their windows. The only light they were given. They didn't know that they were only there for bankruptcy for the railway and thought they had been punished by their controller.

"What day is it today?" asked Gordon to a cleaner.

"It's Tuesday," replied the cleaner as he jumped down from his boiler and back onto the concrete of the shed.

"How many days have we've been stuck in here?" asked Henry.

"Two weeks and one day."

"And do you know when we're going to come out?" I asked.

"...Yes."

The three big engines eyes widened.

"Do you actually!"

"Please tell me!"

"I'll give you a rare photo of me in my Great Northern livery!"

The cleaner chuckled. "Nah. I don't. Just messing with ya."

The three engines' faces fell and all looked at the cleaner with annoyed glances. The cleaner didn't care as he walked out of the shed, laughing.

"Hate boys," said Henry crossly. "I swear if they do something stupid I'll blow my steam at them."

"And what will they do?" I asked.

"I don't know, throw stones at me," replied Henry blankly.

Another hour later. The doors flung open, and there standing outside in front of them, was The Fat Controller.

"Sir!" exclaimed Henry.

"Hullo, Henry, James, Gordon," said The Fat Controller.

"Sir-"

"I'll do the speaking thank you Gordon," interrupted The Fat Controller, "I hope you are sorry and understand you are not so important after all. Thomas, Edward and Percy have worked the line very nicely. They need a change, and I will let you if you promise to be good."

"Yes sir!" said the three engine, "We will."

"That's right, but please remember that this 'no shunting' nonsense must stop."

He turned on his foot and walked away. Smiling to himself. He decided to leave the pointers that they were stuck inside the shed for bankruptcy and to spare money. And that they were only out now so to help with bringing back money and advertisement.

He found the smaller engines in the yards and ordered both Thomas and Edward to go back to their respective branch lines. Percy was ordered to stay in the yards and do what he was bought for. He worked there for the next day, until he was ordered to take some trucks to Kellsthorpe Road and to take others back.

He obliged and took them to where he needed them to be. There he met Eagle the Midland Engine. Eagle found Percy excitable and naive, but he did get a chuckle come out of him when he heard Percy repeat what I said when I pasted with a goods train.

A few minutes after that, the yard foreman came to see Percy. "Your trucks aren't needed to be taken no more," he said, "James will be taking them. You go back to Tidmouth light engine."

Percy was excited. He knew where to go this time and it would be fun to go light engine back. No weight behind him, nothing.

"Be careful when stopping at a signal Percy!" called Eagle, "Whistle to the signalman when you're there!"

"Alright! Thanks Eagle!" called back Percy and he puffed back onto the mainline, and towards Tidmouth.

He soon arrived at Wellsworth. He puffed past the station and stopped outside it for a red signal halted him to go further.

Percy stood there. He didn't pay attention to Eagle's advice with the signals, so he didn't whistle and the signalman had forgotten he was there. Percy waited and waited, he then looked down the line.

"Peep peep peeeeeeeep!" whistled the small engine.

There ahead on the same line was Gordon, heading straight towards them.

"Ohhhh!" he cried, "Get out of my way!"

"Back Percy! Back!" shouted Percy's driver.

But Percy wouldn't move. Too much in shock to listen. Gordon came nearer and nearer. The crew jumped and darted into the bushes to take cover. Percy shut his eyes.

Percy expected an impact. But felt nothing.

He opened his eyes to only look up at Gordon who'd glared down at him. Percy wheels then began to move.

"I won't stay here, I run away! I won't stay here, I run away!" squealed Percy and with beating pistons, he ran past Edward's station and began to head backwards down the mainline.

Gordon watched in shock as he saw Percy run away.

Percy rattles down the mainline. The wheels turning faster and faster. Soon going full speed up Gordon's Hill with slowing into a bit. He eventually came over the top and began to go down the other end. Percy now wanted to stop, his wheels ached, but he couldn't stop. His crew weren't in his cab to shut off steam and apply the breaks.

"I want to stop, I want to stop," whimpered Percy, he eventually slowed when heading towards Maron station. The signalman had gotten the call from Wellsworth's and had set everything for Percy. There, Percy tumbled through the station and was diverted into the yard where again, he would sway into an empty siding where no buffers laid, but instead was a bank of earth at the end.

Percy, still panting, crashed into the pile of earth. Dirt flew everywhere, Percy's wheels jammed into it and he eventually came to a stop as a nearby workman clambered into his cab and stopped him fully so as not to further damage himself.

Percy hadn't registered stopping after all this, he eventually came back and looked around the place.

"I have stopped!" he cried.

More workmen came to help with clearing the earth off Percy and to make sure he wasn't damage. Gordon soon came in with the express, stopping at the station.

"Are you alright Percy?" he asked.

"I-I don't really know," replied Percy.

Both then heard a whistle, and then saw me taking a dirty goods train.

"James!" called Gordon, "Stop!"

"What is it?" I asked, "I've got a goods train to take and-"

"Doesn't matter anymore for you," interrupted Gordon, "Can you take my express? I need to help Percy."

I looked at him. Stunned by his ask. "Well, who's going to take my goods?" I asked.

"I will," replied Gordon, "It'll just be for today though."

"Alright," said I, "I'll just get turned around on the turntable then."

Gordon agreed and soon I back down onto the express and left the station quickly. I had to make up for lost time now since Percy and Gordon delayed it. Gordon pulled Percy out of the pile of earth, turned around, and took my train the rest of the way next. Percy stayed in the siding, and waited for another engine to take him.

The engine soon arrived with a works coach. He had orangish red paintwork and black lining all over him. He had a 4-4-0 configuration, the number '26' on both sides of his cab, and the letters, 'FRS' on both sides of his Fowler tender too.

"Hullo Mickey," said Percy.

"Hey chum," smiled the 2P class, "Don't worry, we won't be here long. We'll just give you a proper inspection and then we'll take you back to Tidmouth. Got that?"

"Yes," sighed Percy glumly.

When Percy did return, he was expecting me and the other two to make fun at him. What he didn't know was that Gordon had made sure we didn't... tease him.

"Thanks for helping Gordon," smiled Percy, "I thought I wouldn't be able to smile again after that."

Gordon smiled back. "Well couldn't let you stay there when you've got to look after the yards here," the big engine replied back.

"It's funny," sniggered Percy, "That The Fat Controller, would have you all shut up in the shed for bankruptcy. I'd say you all could run the railway without us."

Silence fell upon the sheds. My jaw dropped.

"Wait a minute!" cried out Henry, "I thought we were shut in the sheds because of the 'no shunting' business!"

"Same here," agreed Gordon.

"Y-you mean The Fat Controller faked it all?!" I exclaimed.

"Oh," said Percy blankly, "Wasn't I not supposed to mention that?"

*

It took a few more weeks until everything went back to normal. Trains were on time, the yards weren't as pact, and the engines felt happier.

Emily was soon taken of loaned after Edward returned to the branch line and her manager agreed to loan her whenever Edward is too busy to handle the workload.

Thomas and Eagle kept doing the same thing with their own lines. Henry, Gordon and I too.

And Percy would run the yards and station at Tidmouth. He became a good friend with all of us. He was still cheeky, because he's that sort of engine, but Percy is always careful when he goes out onto the mainline.


	14. Ep13: The Failure

~1935~

"What time do you call this?"

"My system is out of order, no one understands my case, you don't know how I feel."

"Rubbish, you're too fat, you need exercise!"

Thomas rumbled out of the station. Leaving Henry in shock and sadness. "Why is life so cruel?" he asked himself as he puffed out of the station.

He then watched Thomas' guard run out of the station platform and after Thomas down the line.

Henry said nothing as he watched him go around the corner, and out of site. The guard then blew his whistle, and Henry pulled out.

It took him a few more hours until he arrived at Vicarstown. He then saw The Fat Controller standing at the platform, waiting for him.

"Well what time do you call this Henry?" asked the stout gentleman.

"A good year?" asked Henry, in a jokingly manner.

The only response he got was a stern look from The Fat Controller. Henry subsided.

"Don't be late next time, otherwise I'll come and see you at the sheds to discuss this matter with your crew," said The Fat Controller.

He walked away. Leaving Henry in sad state.

Henry was returning later that day with another train. He had to stop at Kellsthorpe Road, where he met Eagle, who was a guaranteed-connection with the hybrid's train.

"Morning Henry, how are things?" asked Eagle.

"Not good," replied Henry, "And he explained about what his condition was."

Eagle listened closely. "Maybe you could talk to Mickey about it," he said, "Apparently, he's good with this kind of stuff."

"Alright, I'll see him tomorrow then," replied Henry, "Thank you Eagle."

The guard then blew his whistle, and Eagle moved off, down the branch line.

*

Henry went to visit Mickey the next morning at Crovan's Gate. He explained about his condition and how some of the others didn't understand it. Mickey listened carefully.

"And that's it!" finished Henry, "I'm just a-a failure!"

"You're not a failure Henry," replied Mickey, "If you were, Sir Topham Hatt would've sent you away ages ago. I mean, look at what had happened to Alfred, and that engine called Simon. From what I've seen from Alfred, and what I've heard about Simon, I completely understand why Sir Topham Hatt made them leave."

"But I'm only here because I'm owned by him!" said Henry.

"Maybe," Mickey replied, "But have you ever seen the number one from the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, Midland Railway and Great Northern Railway?"

"Well no-"

"And if you were a failure, Sir Topham Hatt would've done anything to sell you. Probably even send you to the scrapyard!"

Henry paused for a moment. "Do you think... he would've stopped the board of directors from scrapping me in 1933?"

"Maybe, maybe not," admitted Mickey, "But even if you weren't threatened by being scrapped, Sir Topham Hatt would've still tried to keep you working on your railway, because every possible outcome of you leaving the railway, would end in scrapping."

Henry thought about this for a moment. "Thank you Mickey, I needed this," replied Henry.

"Your welcome Henry," Mickey replied with a wide smile on his gruff face. "If you need me again, just ask me when you next see me."

"Gotcha," said Henry and he puffed out of Mickey's shed and started to head back to Tidmouth.

*

~1935~

"This new coal isn't good for me!" sighed Henry sadly, "I can't steam properly and I cannot pull the trains!"

"Rubbish Henry!" I snorted, "Your just lazy, you don't work hard enough!"

I stormed away. Henry want doing so well at that period. A new shipment of coal had arrived to the island and it's engines. It wasn't the best type, it was worse than the last one we had before, but wasn't the worst I've had.

Thomas, Percy and I didn't know the flaws to Henry's design so we couldn't sympathise with, after all, he has pulled stupid stunts like that before with going into the tunnel near Ballahoo. Well you see, Henry couldn't steam properly, and was getting the full blow of the coal, he couldn't get steam and his fire would not help him. This would cause him to fail even before Wellsworth.

The Fat Controller wasn't too Please about this, Henry hadn't been performing well ever since he came and this condition was at its peak.

"You're too expensive Henry," said The Fat Controller sternly, "We've given you knew parts, and a new coat of paint. But they don't seem to make you feel better. If you don't get better I'll have to replace you with another engine."

Henry went pale. His crew looked at each other in shock.

"Sir," called the fireman, "Please, come on our first trip today. I can explain what's the matter with Henry and maybe, just show you too."

The Fat Controller thought for a second. Henry held his breath. Then, the stout gentleman nodded. "I hope you can tell and show Mr Barnes," he said, and he walked away.

Henry sighed in relief. "Thank you Rupert," he said.

The Fat Controller was only threatening Henry by replacing him. Only to scare him back into place. But Henry and his crew believed he would actually do this, they panicked a little and began to make as much steam as possible for the green engine.

Henry was then taken to the station platform where his train was. There on the platform, was The Fat Controller himself, but he wasn't wearing his business suit, instead he had overalls all over him so he could bear the heat inside the cab.

Henry started out of the station a few minutes. He started out well, but Rupert Barnes wasn't satisfied. So he began to tell The Fat Controller all about the problems with he and the driver's engine.

"Henry is poor steamer," said Rupert to The Fat Controller, "I build up his fire, but doesn't give enough heat."

Henry began to get weaker and weaker. He couldn't go no more and stopped at Edward's station. Henry's boiler sank.

"Oh dear, I have to go away," whimpered Henry sadly, "Oh dear, Oh dear."

The green engine was ordered to be move from the train and was driven into the banker's siding. Edward, who was in the yard, was ordered to take the train. He obliged and too it on. But as he puffed off, he whispered to Henry.

"Good luck Henry," he said, and took the train on.

The Fat Controller, after coming out of the Stationmaster's office to do a call, came back outside to talk to Rupert about Henry's fire.

"What do you think is wrong Mr Barnes?" he asked. Climbing back into the cab.

"Excuse me sir but the fact is that the coal is wrong," replied Rupert, "We've been having a poor lot lately and today is the worst. The other engines can manage they have big fire boxes. Henry's is small and can't make the heat. But with welsh coal he would be different engine."

The Fat Controller thought for a second. Knowing what Rupert was applying. If Henry would get welsh coal, it would drastically improve his abilities with his power, but there was one problem.

"It's expensive," replied The Fat Controller, finally making his mind up, "But Henry must have a fair chance. James will go and get some."

Henry eventually went back to Tidmouth after he had built enough steam.

I soon arrived with the coal two days later. By thenHenry wasn't allowed out was ordered to be cleaned and checked.

Percy then took the coal trucks off of me and I left. Then Percy took the coal trucks next to Henry, and also left. The cleaner took there equipment, and do you know? They left too.

Henry and his crew were now alone. "Now Henry, old boy," smiled Rupert, "We'll show them what you're actually made of!"

Rupert soon took out the welsh coal from the trucks and dumped them in Henry's empty tender. Once that was done, he began making the fire, but he did a bit differently. He put the larger lumps around the outside and the smaller lumps in the middle. Henry felt this and didn't like it.

"You're spoiling my fire!" he complained.

"Don't worry Henry," smiled Rupert, "You'll be fine enough and once we're at the station, you'll get a roaring fire, you what we want to."

Henry didn't complain further. He trusted his fireman's words. He felt even more trustworthy to Rupert's words when he came to the station. He was sizzling nicely at the platform with steam going everywhere.

The Fat Controller came out to see Henry. "Well Henry," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Much better sir!" whistled Henry delightedly, "I feel all new!"

"Good, what about you Mr Barnes?"

"The fire is perfect sir, this welsh coal will do wonders for Henry."

"Good. Not make sure he does, and I hope to see a better improvement with your work Henry."

"Don't worry sir," called Henry, as he heard the guard's whistle. "I'll do my very best!"

Then from the shriek of his day whistle. Henry's wheels began to turn. The coupling tightened between the green engine and his coaches but Henry didn't feel weak, neither did the coaches feel heavy.

Henry began to pick up the pace. He then began to go faster and faster. Rushing past Crosby and came into Thomas' junction early.

The tank engine was shocked to see Henry arrive so soon.

"Sorry Thomas," replied Henry, as the tank engine's passengers went into his. "But I have a schedule to keep up to. Goodbye!"

And he rushed out of the platform. Thomas watched him go. "Jeez," he said, "If we were a different colour like red, I'll never knew it was him!"

Thomas' coaches, agreed.

Henry stopped at all the branch line stations on time if not early. He rocketed past me whilst I was waiting at a signal and the same happened the next day. The Fat Controller even changed the timetables so to Make sure Henry wouldn't be early.

Even though for the next few months, Henry would lose a lot of money for the expensive coal he needed. But in return, Henry would put in much effort into pulling his trains, given more money to the railway.

But this was about to change, as in December, Henry would experience one of the most horrific crashes in the North Western history.

But that is another story...


	15. Ep14: Henry

~ December 1935 ~

"It's getting too expensive!"

"But the money is pouring in as well!"

"But if we remove that failure of an engine-"

"I won't replace my number three," fumed The Fat Controller.

The member of the board stared at the controller to the NWR. He sat back down into his chair. Growling softly.

The Fat Controller sighed. "My number three has been difficult to handle for the past years I've had him. But he's a hard worker, that's what I need on my railway. I don't know what others would do if I'd sell him to another company. But the risk of him being, disposed off will be highly likely."

"So you're only keeping him," said Mr Fredrick, the man who'd just sat down, "That you're only keeping him for personal reasons?"

The Fat Controller said nothing. He just sat there and stared at the bearded man.

Mr Fredrick relaxed into his chair. "I stand corrected."

"This is business we're talking about Topham," said Mr Regaby, "We cannot let personal feelings for this engine effect this company."

The Fat Controller sighed. "I'll try and figure something out for him," he said, "But I'll make the final decision about what to do with him."

"And if we all disagree about the choice?" asked Mr Fredrick.

"That's enough Mr Fredrick," snapped Mr Regaby, he then stared back The Fat Controller, "If we all disagree?"

"You'll all have to make the decision," replied The Fat Controller, "But if over half agrees with my decision, we'll go with the plans I want for him."

"Agreed, you have two weeks," replied Mr Regaby, "Next meeting happening next week. So if you have an idea then, you can give it out to us all."

The Fat Controller nodded. A few minutes later, he was out of the office of Tidmouth, he got into his car and drove off. Thinking of what to do with Henry. Otherwise he would be scrapped.

*

Henry was finding life grand recently. His trains were all on time, and he hadn't had a single problem with building up steam recently.

His driver and fireman were proud of him too. One evening, at Tidmouth, Henry's driver was waiting on the platform, for a new timetable. They were soon given it by an inspector who looked worn out to be working.

The driver looked at the slip of paper, reading the trains needed to be taken. He then reread again.

"Are you sure about this? I wasn't told anything of the sort," said the driver pointed at a specific train and time.

"Yes it is," replied the inspector, "I don't know either. But you'll be taking it at that time. Don't worry, you all can go home after taking that passenger train there and back."

And he walked away. Leaving the driver stunned.

"What is it?" called Henry, hearing everything yet not understanding it.

"Well, for what it is, we're taking a fish train tomorrow," replied the driver.

"Why?" asked Henry.

"New train all together," replied the driver, "Guess the Controller wanted us to take it."

"Then why are we pulling a fish train? Shouldn't they be on goods trains too?"

"Fish is smelly Henry," replied Rupert, "So Sir Topham would obviously want that type of goods be taken in one go."

Henry harrumphed. He didn't like the idea. But he had no choice. After all, The Fat Controller has done so much for him.

"Alright, what time is it then?"

"We have to leave Tidmouth docks at five O'clock in the morning."

*

The Fat Controller sat in his office. He had to think of something for Henry. Otherwise he'll perish. The green locomotive, when he could, was a hard worker. Always getting the job done with steam, and would try his best without steam.

The Fat Controller leaned back into his chair. He didn't know what to do.

He sat there. Thinking.

And thinking.

And thinking.

"Dam it!" he said, banging his fist onto the table. There was a knock on the door. The Fat Controller repose himself quickly. "Come in!"

The Tidmouth Stationmaster walked into the office.

"Excuse me sir, but this letter arrived today, you weren't here all day, so I've decided to keep it until you'd arrive here, it's urgent."

The Fat Controller put out his hand. "Thank you."

The stationmaster automatically gave it to his boss. "How was the meeting sir?"

"Alright," replied The Fat Controller, getting his letter knife out and cutting the envelope open. "Just got to figure something out."

"Do you mind telling me sir?"

The Fat Controller paused. Then nodded his head. "I prefer to keep it hidden for now. All will be revealed to all staff members and engines. But right now, it isn't the right time."

"Understood, Sir," replied the stationmaster. He then excused himself and walked out of the room.

The Fat Controller then refocused on the envelope and took a letter out of it. He read it carefully.

Dear Sir Bertram Topham Hatt

I'm writing to tell you that what you said about the steam pressure is correct and I have added to my knew fleet of engines. They're classed as LMS 5MTs and they are succeeding the expectations of the board of the LMS and my own.

I thank you for that. Tell your family I give my condolences and I hope you're well too.

If you need anything from me, just call me or send a letter. I'm willing to help.

Yours Sincerely,

Sir William Stanier

The Fat Controller smiled. He remembered when both were at Swindon, working under apprenticeships to get where they wanted. They did so.

Then The Fat Controller's eyes widen. He had an idea. An idea that could change Henry forever.

'No it's too risky,' thought The Fat Controller, 'But William has some incredible things ever since I met him.'

He sighed. 'It's the only option I've isn't it?'

He grabbed a sheet of paper, a pen. Dipped it in ink and started to write away to his old friend.

*

Percy was shunting at the docks. Fish vans laid everywhere along the key side, all empty and needed to be filled of their namesake.

"Even though they're not full of them, I can still smell the fish off of them," grumbled Percy, "Why do I have to get all the smelly jobs!"

"Because you're a smelly engine Percy!" called a fish van.

"Not of fish though, of cow pat!" yelled another. The rest of them laughed.

Percy wheeshed steam crossly. "Be quiet!" he ordered and banged them hard.

"Oh oh oh oh!" screamed the fish vans.

Eagle then came into the key. "Evening Percy!" he called.

"Eagle?" Percy said, "What are you doing here?"

"I've just brought some empty trucks here, and some fish vans just so Henry won't stop at my station," replied Eagle, he chuckled a bit, from what he said last.

"Well that makes sense," Percy replied, "Just leave your train there. I'll handle it!"

"'Right," said Eagle, he was uncoupled and began to puff away, "I'll be here until the night falls! So don't be surprised if you see me around!"

Percy grinned. He soon ordered the trucks Eagle brought, then shunted the vans onto the line Henry was to take them and went back to the sheds. He found Henry, sleeping. He thought of peeping at him or wheeshing him again. But decided not to, and waited for the fireman to start refilling his saddle tank up again of water.

*

Henry woke up early at four o'clock. The fire lighter had lit up his fire and was now with a good head of steam, full of his welsh coal.

Half an hour later his crew arrived to the yards. By then, Henry had gotten plenty of steam and was ready to go.

He puffed to the docks and arrived where workmen were busy loading fish into the vans and cranes helping with unloading fishing ships' crates.

Henry watched with interest. "Never thought fish would be this important," he said.

A workman heard this and turned to the green engine. "That's because it is important," he said, "I mean, it has a name."

"A fish train with a name?" quizzed Henry with a raised eyebrow, "What is it then?"

"The Flying Kipper."

Henry thought about the name. 'It suits this nicely,' he thought.

It wasn't long until five o'clock. Everything was ready, the last door banged. The guard showed his green lamp, and the Flying Kipper was ready to start.

Henry's wheels spun as he tried to start off. He then tried a second time, this time succeeding.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" yelled Henry to the vans.

"Trock, trick, trock, trick! Alright! Alright!" yelled back the vans.

Henry soon made it out of the harbour rushed through the abandoned platform that went along the Arlesborough branch, and came into the mainline. The driver then opened the regulator wide open and Henry jerked forward. Earning screams and yells and complaints from the vans.

They were going well. They rushed through Edward's station and climbed up the ice of Gordon's Hill. Managing to reach the top without the help of a banker. Henry then coast down it. Signal was green as they thundered through Maron station, and rattled around the long bend after it. The light grew better, and Henry was still going at a fast speed, almost matching Gordon's.

Then, a yellow signal appeared.

"Distant signal up ahead driver!" called Henry to his cab. "It's up!"

"Impossible!" his driver called back, "The home signal is down!"

"Watch shall we do then?" asked the fireman.

"We have to continue," replied the driver, "Let's ease off a bit though. Distant signals do mean caution, so we have to trust it as well."

The fireman agreed, and Henry's driver slowly eased the regulator. Henry continued past the signal. What he and crew didn't realise was that the home signal was suppose to set as danger. But snow and ice force it down, breaking it, so it couldn't go back up.

*

Eagle was set in a siding, grumbling to himself. One of his pistons had burst and was forced into going into a siding along the mainline. He was hoping to be rescued that night, but was told he would have to stay there. The siding wasn't very long. It only carried on for almost a mile, but instead of buffers at the end, the siding then went back onto the mainline.

Eagle's crew had went to join the guard in his van. Whilst the midland engine sad in the snow.

"This is ridiculous!" he exclaimed to himself, "Why couldn't The Fat Controller find some other engine to pick me up!"

"Cause you're too fat so they can barely move ya," called a truck. And the others laughed behind him.

"Ah shut up!" wheeshed Eagle crossly.

He then heard the sounds of fast puffing. The rails vibrating and the whirring of wheels coming towards him.

"I wonder who that is?" asked Eagle to himself.

It was Henry. Like what his driver had told him, he was going slower than he was before going past the distant signal. He was still going pretty fast though.

Too fast to stop in time.

Henry saw Eagle's train in the siding. He narrowed his eyes. 'Who could that be?' he thought to himself. He then looked towards the points, that led to the siding, he gasp in shock.

"Breaks driver! The points aren't set!" he yelled.

Henry's driver leaned out to see the points switched into the siding. He then grabbed the lever and shut the steam off and applied the breaks. Henry screeched along the icy rails.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" murmured Henry.

His wheels locked into place and Henry skidded along the track. Whistling furiously, Eagle raised a brow and looked back. His crew and guard came out too. Seeing Henry charging towards the points, they got out of the van and ran to safety. Henry's crew jumped out of their engine's cab, just in time for Henry to hit the points and derail scrapping the ballast, sleepers and rails until crashing into the back of Eagle's train. Smashing the break van and jolting the entire train forward, causing most of the train to derail including Eagle. Henry flew through the air for a few seconds, going across the remainders of the break van, until tilting over and landing on the embankment that was covered in snow. He was still going fast, meaning after going back onto the ground, he scraped across the ground, snow moving out of the way like he was a snowplough.

He eventually stopped. Halting next to Eagle's derailed train. Henry's fireman then got up.

"Shit," he said, "Michael!"

"Rupert!"

Rupert looked to see the driver on the ground. Gripping his left hand tightly. "I think it's broken," he said.

"Let's get you to the nearest signal box," said Rupert. Helping Michael up.

"Oi! What happened?"

Henry's crew turned to see Eagle's crew and guard race towards them.

"The points must have jammed with frost," said Rupert.

"Must?" screamed the guard, "It very must've. Otherwise this wouldn't of happened!"

He pointed at the wreck. His hands shaking.

"Just take him to the nearest signal box and call for fire and rescue," said Rupert handing Michael over to the guard. "We'll check out engines."

*

Henry woke up, daze and surprise deep in the snow. Everything was a blur at first, and his hearing wasn't that good either. He blinked a few times until his eyes refocused. He saw chains on him, holding him tightly and cranes, ready to pull him. His hearing became better.

"One! Two! Three! Lift!"

The cranes began to whir, and Henry began to be lifted off his side. He groaned, pain was shooting through his nose.

A few minutes later, he was being lifted off the ground. He found the cranes to be Judy and Jerome. With Mickey and I shunting the trucks away.

Henry tried to speak. But couldn't find his voice, instead pain came out of it. He heard workmen talk nearby.

"Dear god, be careful, his face p like he's about to rip in half!"

"Talk about gore on a railway."

Henry then found The Fat Controller, staring up at him. With a grim face, looking at him with a pitiful glance. "I'm so sorry Henry," he said.

Henry tried to speak a gain, but pain shot through him again.

"Don't try to speak, it will only make things worse, the hit to the break van smash your nose and partially your mouth," explained The Fat Controller, "Don't worry. Your crew, Eagle's crew and guard are all fine, worst injury is just a broken hand."

Henry looked down to the ground. His front was all bent and black blood dropped down to the ground mixing into the white snow.

"It's not your fault Henry," continued The Fat Controller, "Ice And snow coursed the accident. I'm sending you to Crewe, a fine place for sick engines."

Henry looked up to his Controller.

"They'll you a new firebox and won't need welsh coal anymore," added The Fat Controller, "Won't that be nice?"

Henry didn't say anything. Just gave a weakening smile. He was placed on a flatbed, and a sheet of tarpon covered him up.

*

~A Few Months Later~

~1936~

"It's disgraceful! Me, being put on goods trains!"

"Yes Gordon," replied Edward with a heavy sigh.

"I mean, a great, big, Doncaster Pacific-"

"Shouldn't be degraded into pulling goods work," finished Edward, looking slightly annoyed at Gordon.

"You've told us this ever since Henry has been sent to Cheshire."

"It's Crewe."

"Yes, but Crewe is in Cheshire, isn't it?"

Gordon mumbles crossly. "How long do you think Henry will return?"

"It has been nearly six months by now, roughly the time to build a completely new engine, so what I'm thinking is that they'll change Henry into a new different class of tender engine. Like what they did to the Hush Hush a few weeks back."

"Huh, let's hope the green sod can actually do work now," grumbled Gordon.

"Oh be quiet," said Edward sternly, "You must understand that Henry was apart of an accident which damaged the railway's reputation for a fortnight. The goods contracts were sliming like crazy."

"But Eagle was apart of it too, and he stayed here to be repaired. Why Henry go to Crewe?"

"Because they could be rebuilding him!" cried Edward, "And he went head on into the collision. Eagle just derailed, and you know what the damages to his face were described. Destroyed nose, broken voice box, no wonder he could've gone to Crewe."

"Why not Sir Nigel Gresley?" asked Gordon.

"Why do you always try and make an argument?" sighed Edward.

Before Gordon could reply. People began to crowd the bridge above Wellsworth station. People also gathered in the station platform. Gordon and Edward looked at each other.

"Probably a visiting engine, you how enthusiasts are," he smirked, "James will be having a fit."

"I don't think that's it Gordon," Edward replied, "I think there waiting for something else."

Then the signal dropped and a shrill whistle came from up the mainline. The people began to cheer and wave. And the loud puffing came from the distance.

"What does that sound like?" asked Edward.

"Like a new engine," replied Gordon, uninterested, "Like I said, a visitor from the other railway."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Have you ever heard Henry's whistle Gordon?"

"Of course!" snapped Gordon, crossly, "I remember it as a-"

He cut himself. Realising what the engine's whistle sounded like. "No, it does sound like his whistle. But... but it sounds too deep! But if could be?"

Then with another shrill of the whistle, a massive engine, thundered through under the road bridge. It was the same size as Gordon, with a much different shape. It's livery was an olive green, with the number three painted on each side of a fowler tender.

Henry wheeshed past the two. "Peep peep!" he whistled, "Hullo Edward! Hullo Gordon! Can't stop now, must get to Tidmouth!"

The green engine continued on. Leaving two engines - one amused, one shocked - at the station platform.

"Well, bust my buffers!" cried Gordon, "I thought that was never possible!"

"What is?" asked Edward.

"Turning an engine into a complete new one!"

"Well, we ain't going back in time. This must be groundbreaking for the LMS," said Edward.

"Pah," said Gordon, and he puffed away.

Edward smiled. The guard then blew his whistle and waved his green flag and Edward puffed out of the station. Looking forward to talking to his old friend again.


	16. Ep15: Gangsta At The Harbour

~1936~

Railways, were originally built to take goods trains. So to replace the canals of Britain. There goods would be taken to mines, towns or harbours.

Harbours were the main reason why. They could connect to other countries, who can trade goods such as fish, clothes and many other things. These come in by boats, massive machines that float on land. But they were too big, too big to dock, otherwise they'd destroy the docking area and damage themselves.

That's why tugboats exist. So they could give the large boats a safe docking. They could also send smaller shipments to other parts of the docks or to a different place near it.

That is why there are different types of tugboats. Switches, Harbour Tugs, Railway Tugs and Ocean Goers.

On Sodor, there were too fleets of tugs. All coming to work at the docks in the late 1920s. The Starr Fleet, was one of them.

There was OJ, a paddle steamer, the oldest out of them all. Big Mac and Warrior, two massive beasts who carried the bigs loads around the bay. Top Hat, the tug that worked around the railway. Ten Cents and Sunshine, two little switchers that loved to work hard. And finally, Hercules, the biggest of them all. Usually sending the biggest ocean lines and goods ships into bay.

One day, Percy was waiting at the docks. He loved the fresh, salty air and the Starr Fleet was always fun to talk to. Today, he was talking to OJ about the new canal stream, going through the harbour and into the middle.

"And there's that new railway drawbridge as well!" beamed Percy, "That way, we can get over your canal whilst not going up stupid slopes!"

"Well," laughed OJ, "It's a good thing too. After all, neither we can climb slopes or hills either."

"But you can't go on land," said Percy, puzzled at what OJ meant.

OJ chuckled. "You might never know until you've tried it."

With the blast of his whistle. He steamed away, paddles splashing into the water.

Percy watched as the paddle steamer floated away. Percy then went back to work. He soon arrived back at the sheds to see Gordon.

Percy then began to talk about how tugs can go on land. Gordon laughed at this.

"You silly engine!" he boomed, "Tugs cannot go on land, they'll over balance and won't be able to move until they've destroyed their own propellers!"

Percy wheeshed steam crossly and secretly embarrassed. "Well OJ told me that," he replied.

"OJ?" smiled Gordon, "And I thought Zorran would've."

"Zorran. Who's Zorran?" asked Percy curiously.

"Zorran, is apart of another tug fleet based here on Sodor." Both engines looked to see me puffing in.

"They're called the Z-Stacks, or Zero Fleet if you want to do either," I replied.

"I see," replied Percy, "But what's so bad about them? As from what Gordon has said about this, Zorren. It sounds like they're troublesome."

"Oh they are," said Gordon, "Try and take the Starr Fleets contracts no matter what. Back in 1927, Zorran purposely shoved Sunshine into a cruise liner which carried the Duchess of Boxford. Went out of control it did, so the Starr Fleet had no choice but to except help from the Z-Stacks."

"Oh my!" exclaimed Percy, "Please tell me they were seen!"

"Zorran was spotted by a foreign goods ship when he shoved Sunshine into the cruise liner," I replied, "So they had to pay a fine, and loose the contract they gained from that scheme."

"Well that was lucky," smiled Percy, "I'll take care of them."

But Percy would have other problems about the harbour's floating machines. You see, there was a small, new canal that was made for and only for tugs, so they could not get in the way with the massive ships. It wasn't, for users that were bigger than tugs. Even Big Mac sometimes has trouble going through it.

That morning, a strange steamboat came rolling into the harbour. Big Mac saw him decided to see what he needed.

"Alright mate," he called, "Need a tow to get into Tidmouth Harbour."

"Yeah, I might need a tow," grunted the steamboat, "Just take me into the outer side of the docks and I think we'll be fine. Some business men are waiting for me there and are quite um... stubborn, if you know what I mean?"

"Don't worry mate! We get it all the time around here," joked Big Mac. And the two laughed. Big Mac soon took the steamboat into one of the outer docks.

"You'll need to pay for the tow," called Big Mac.

"Yeah, I'll be here until tomorrow, so I can just pay ya twice when I leave," called back the steamboat, "Less effort if ya get it?"

"Alright," replied Big Mac, "What time?"

"9:30 AM to be accurate."

"Alright, don't go movin'!"

"Don't worry mate! I hate movin' anyways!" chuckled the steamboat.

The steamboat waited for a few minutes, until a man came walking up to him. "How ya doing Mr Hallwagons!" sneered the steamboat.

"Fine, thank you Jerry," replied Mr Hallswagon, "So, do you have the goods that we ordered?"

"All in there and ready to go when you want it!" smiled Jerry, "It'll cost ya a bit more for me and my crew. After all, had a near runnin' in France."

"Alright, I'll give you 2 more, how is that?"

"That'll be fine Mr Hallswagon," sneered Jerry, "You can take your goods now."

"Listen here mate." The steamboat looked over to see a brownish red lorry. He looked just as gruff as him and it glaring at him in comfortably.

"You better be careful with what ya say," said the lorry, "My boss doesn't like... double crossers."

"Why would I do that?" growled Jerry, "I've been doing this for almost a decade now, and I have never gotten any suspicion wherever I go."

The lorry growled back at Jerry.

*

Percy was shunting some empty vans into a siding, so they could be loaded with fish, for the Flying Kipper tonight. He then saw a brown and black tug, resting nearby.

'That must be a Z-Stack,' he thought. And he was right.

Zorran floated in the water. Dozing in the morning sun. "This is the life," he murmured to himself, "No Starr Tugs, no Z-Stacks, no actual jobs today! Just the perfect day for me to-"

"Peep pip peeeeep!"

Zorran jumped. Eyes shot opened, he looked around the place. Only to see a green saddle tank engine on the key, grinning cheekily at him.

"Who are you?" demanded Zorran.

"My name is Percy," sniggered the small engine, "And you must be, no likely, Zorran, from the Z-Stacks."

"Well aren't you the clever clogs," said Zorran sarcastically.

Percy smirked. "Did I make you mad?"

"Well ya kinda did," snapped Zorran.

"Aww, then do you want to be cradled to sleep?" asked Percy cheekily.

Zorran shot steam out of his funnel. "Don't play with me you green caterpillar," he said, "Otherwise you'll be working up at Harwick, as a boiler for a factory."

"Well, I'd be more useful than you," retorted Percy and he scampered off, laughing. Zorran just seethed in anger.

That day, Matthew was ordered to collect some trucks to take to the fort at Vicarstown. Warrior was bringing in the ship, and some trucks, Percy had left for Matthew's Train was needed.

The small engine was leaving the docks to do some shunting at the station. Suddenly, a lorry shot over the crossing that exited the harbour for road vehicles. Percy whistled in shock.

"Hey!" he cried, "What was that for!"

But the lorry only laughed as he rushed away.

"He was going over the speed limit," Percy complained to his driver.

"He'll definitely get into trouble with the police then," said Percy's driver, "Did you get the number plate Bruce?"

"Yeah," replied the fireman, "it was IS25 ALH."

"Ah yes, I think your right," agreed the fireman, "We'll report them to the harbour master later."

Percy restarted, heading back to the station. It was almost the end of the day, and Percy was back at the harbour, his crew had currently parked the small engine near the harbour master's office and reporting the lorry.

A whistle was then heard and Matthew came into view. He stopped near Percy to greet him.

"Hullo Percy," smiled the war engine, "How's tricks?"

"I'm fine, thank you very much!" smiled Percy.

"What are you doing there then?" asked Matthew, "You're pretty close to the harbour master's office."

"Huh, there was a lorry that went over the speed limit, and jumped that crossing where us engines and vehicles can get out from the south side of the docks," sighed Percy, "Idiot if you ask me."

"Well, there are some people in the world who think they're so invincible," said Matthew, "Got to get use to that fact. Not all life is happy."

"I know that," groaned Percy, "But why can't people change? Or be like that for that matter!"

"Because they do it, because they're impatient, cocky, and think they're immune to these kind of things," replied Matthew.

A long silence followed. Matthew then spoke again. "What did the lorry look like?"

"It looked maroon," said Percy, "And it had a bonnet, covering it's backend"

Matthew pondered for a moment. "The police should defiantly know about that one," he said, "That would be one of the three lorries that are in the black market."

"Black market?" asked Percy.

"Best not to say anything about it," replied Matthew.

Percy's driver and fireman then came back out of the harbour master's office. "Come on boy!" called his driver, "We need to carry on with our work."

Percy obliged and set off. Leaving Matthew pondering to himself. He went off to find his train and saw a massive goods vessel on the port. Matthew surveyed him carefully. He puffed past the massive boat and came back with his goods to stop next to him after doing another look over.

The massive boat looked at Matthew menacingly. "What do you want?" he said in a threatening way.

"There was a lorry that went over the speed limit this morning," informed Matthew, "A lorry that works in the black market. His number plate is IS25 ALH. Do you know him?"

"Sorry mate, but I haven't seen a lorry all morning," sneered the boat.

Matthew you narrowed his eyes. "What's your name?" he asked.

"... Jerry Huntley," came the reply.

"Thank you for your cooperation Jerry Huntley," said Matthew, "I don't want to question you no more."

Matthew then puffed away. Jerry Huntley watched him go, and began to think of a plan.

Matthew saw Hercules nearby before heading out and whistled to him. "Hey Hercules!"

"What is it my dear?" asked Hercules.

"There's a large steam boat near the railway sidings, outside the main docking area for ships!" replied Matthew, "His name is Jerry Huntley. Make sure he doesn't leave, he might be apart of the black market!"

"Jerry Huntley," repeated Hercules, "Alright Matthew! I'll keep watch on him!"

Matthew steamed away feeling reassured. He trusted Hercules, he was very reliable and was very good with promises.

Meanwhile, Eagle was waiting at Rolf's Castle station with a passenger train. He was running late for a faulty signal and was a little worried. "I can't be late, otherwise I'll miss the connection with James, he isn't a guaranteed-connection," said Eagle to his driver.

Soon the guard blew his whistle, and Eagle stormed out of the station. He was heading towards a level crossing, and was just about to go over it, when a lorry came storming over it. Eagle hit it hard and the lorry was shoved sideways by the midland engine.

Eagle was shocked. "Stop driver! Stop!" he yelled. His driver did, and made Eagle come to a stop, a few yards away from the crossing. A police car then came up from the same direction as the lorry, and two policemen got out.

Eagle looked down at the lorry, who was groaning horribly. The policemen soon got to the lorry and looked inside. They then came up to Eagle's crew.

"Best call for an ambulance," said one, "Firemen, go to the nearest signal box and call for one. We'll stay here."

The fireman agreed and ran off up the line.

Soon, an ambulance came and took the men away. Whilst Mickey came to clear the mess with Jerome and a flatbed. Once done, Mickey took them back to Kellsthorpe Road. He put the flatbed which the lorry was sitting on into a siding with Jerome behind him. Mickey faced the lorry in front.

"So Larry, thought you could get away?" asked Mickey, "But you didn't in the end. Now look at yourself, all battered up and all for what? Cocaine?"

Larry looked away.

"Now," continued Mickey, "I have some questions for you, and if lucky, you might get less of a charge if you answer them correctly. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Good. Then let's proceed."

*

Hercules watched Jerry with gleaming eyes, which were shaded by his sunglasses. "There's something going over there," he said to himself.

"Like what Hercules?"

"Ah, Hello Ten Cents!" called Hercules, "Haven't seen you in a while! Where have you been?"

"Been at Brendam. You can't believe the fish there!" replied Ten Cents. He then looked over to Jerry. "Why you watching him?"

"Matthew ask me to."

"Why?"

"I think Matthew suspects him as a criminal. So we best be aware," replied Hercules.

"Understood," agreed Ten Cents, he then looked back at Jerry and gasp. "Look! He's tryin' to get away!"

The switcher was right. Jerry was moving out of the dock and towards the ocean.

"Not if I say anything about it!" yelled Hercules, and with a roar of his engine, he pushed through the waves and after Jerry.

Jerry wasn't going fast and Hercules was catching up to him quickly. But as Hercules was about to overtake him before Jerry got out to sea. Jerry turned, beginning to block Hercules.

"Woah!" cried the large tug and he turned the other direction to avoid a collision.

"Wimp!" laughed Jerry. But he then spotted Big Mac coming straight towards him.

Jerry has no choice but to turn fully around and go back to the dock. "I know a way to get out," he sniggered as Big Mac chased after him.

Jerry raced across the water. Heading straight towards the canal that the tugs go through. Percy was nearby with some empty trucks and realised what the massive boat was doing.

"Oh no you don't!" he yelled and shoved the trucks towards the bridge.

"Oh oh oh oh!" cried the trucks, "Stop Percy! Stop! The bridge is lifted up!"

But Percy carried on. His wheels pounding the rails and just as Jerry's front deck was going through the canal, Percy's trucks leaped off the rails and smashing into Jerry. Jerry only fitted into the canal by inches and when the trucks shoved him sideways and banged in the deck. The rest of the trucks either smashed onto the deck, damaging the steamboat, or filled the gap between Jerry and the other side of the canal.

Jerry was now wedged in, Percy was now derailed, and Big Mac was now coming to a holt, smiling widely.

"Well done Percy lad!" he yelled, "Ya stopped him!"

Jerry growled. He tried to get himself free, only to make things worst with the trucks being more wedged between the steamboat and the the concert dock.

The police soon arrived and arrested the captain and his crew and Jerry was sent away in disgrace by a police boat the next day. The trucks were wrecked and sent to scrap and the dock that was damaged from Jerry's squeeze in the tugs' canal.

Still though, the police have now realised that this drug trafficking wasn't going anytime soon. But I shouldn't say anymore, otherwise I'll go way over the limit of the story.


	17. Ep16: New Shape

~1938~

"You're groaning again."

"I am not!"

"Come on! It's quite obvious!"

"What's this about Gordon groaning?"

"Buzz off Percy!"

Percy humphed and looked to the green engine next to him.

"What's the matter with Gordon?" he asked.

Henry sighed. "It's his axles again," he replied, "They're louder than usual and Gordon keeps thinking he's invincible."

"Oh but I am!" boasted Gordon, "I have never had an accident!"

"Aren't blown safety valves and faulty whistles accidents?" asked Percy.

"Well-I-ere-I-of course not!" spluttered the big engine, "They're just faults. Accidents are what are classified as coming off the rails."

Henry wheeshed steam crossly. "Nonsense, you surely had an accident."

"Never had, never will," Gordon replied, "Now good day gentlemen."

And with that, Gordon pulled out of the shed. The groaning of his axles were heard across the yard. Percy winced and followed.

*

The small engine brought in the coaches to the platform. Gordon watched Percy.

"Hurry up! Hurry up!" he yelled.

"Oh come on!" grumbled Percy, "There's a speed limit!"

"Well it looks like your not at the top of it," snapped Gordon, "Now move it!"

Percy huffed and pulled the coaches into the station, and touched the buffers gently. Then once set, Gordon puffed over the points and back down onto the coaches. Percy was uncoupled, Gordon was coupled, the passengers got into the carriages and the guard waited until the clock struck the hour. As usual,

The Fat Controller would wait on the platform, patiently and watch the Wild Nor' Wester leave the station until out of site. But today, he strode up to the big engine's crew to talk to them.

"How's Gordon handling the express Mr Foster?" he asked.

"Very well sir," replied the driver, "His performance is doing spectacular recently."

"Good," smiled The Fat Controller, "Then I have a request for you three then."

Gordon looked back and his fireman got up from checking the fire. "W-what sort of request sir?" asked the driver.

"That Gordon can have a speed run tomorrow," announced The Fat Controller, "He'll be racing all the way to Vicarstown with a dynamometer car. He'll have a clear path the entire way and everything is arranged. If you all want to proceed with this option?"

"I'm fine with it sir," replied Gordon's driver.

"And me," said the fireman, "But it's mainly up to Gordon to decide."

All three looked to the big engine, who was in deep thought. He then looked back up. "I'll do it sir."

"Wonderful, tell me if anything is wrong understood?"

"Understood sir," replied Gordon.

"Good. I'll be in the dynamometer car as well, so I'll see you all tomorrow then." And with that The Fat Controller moved off to watch Gordon depart.

*

A new sun came out amongst the hills of Sodor. Citizens waking up to start their day, but some were already awake and were busy with preparations for Gordon's speed test outside the sheds.

I watched nearby with Henry. Both woken up by Gordon's loud complaints and other stupid reasons.

"Do you know why he's acting up like this?" I asked Henry.

Henry sniffed. "No, and I don't really care," he said, "But The Fat Controller has ordered me to take the Wild Nor' Wester today. Something must be up then-"

"You're taking the express, AGAIN?!"

"What? Did I not tell you?" smirked Henry.

"Well obviously not!" I exclaimed, "You always take the express now!"

"Well you always took the express when Gordon was ill or busy," replied Henry, "So it's my turn to be the relief engine for the Wild Nor' Wester for the next decade."

I wheeshed steam, angered by the fact that The Fat Controller was always allowing Henry to take the express, even when I was available he would always pick Henry. I was too furious with Henry to talk to him now, so I asked my driver to move me along up next to Gordon. He obliged and steamed up next to the big engine a minute later.

"Can you not stand next to me please?" asked Gordon, sounding rider than ever, "I'm trying to make myself have a good appearance today."

"...Well I won't until you tell me," I said, "I don't get told anything around here or I'm the last one to know, so tell me before Henry knows."

"And why?"

"Because I'll tell The Fat Controller about you're groan-"

"Alright fine!" interrupted Gordon, "I'm doing a speed test to Vicarstown to see how fast I can go along the mainline. It's mainly a test to see if the mainline needs improvement with the bends and other such things."

"...Okay, I'm probably gonna have to go back on my word there."

"What! Why?!"

"Because it sounds too dangerous for you," I said, "Your groaning started back when Henry returned from Crewe, and that was like... three years ago?"

Gordon rolled his eyes, not caring in the slightest. This boasted my anger and determination to stop him.

"You cannot go through with this Gordon! Your taking mighty risks! You might not be able to take this on!"

"Shut up James," mumbled Gordon, "I know when I'm able to take things on. And I know that this speed test won't change a thing for me."

"Ya all set now Gordon! The dynamometer car is at the station for ya!" shouted a workman.

"Thank you," replied Gordon, and he stormed off with groaning axles. I just watched as his sounds echoed between his pistons and rods.

Henry pulled up alongside me. "So do you know what he's doing?"

"Yes."

"Thank god. Now I can finally not listen to your moaning!"

"Shut your ugly tender Henry!"

*

Gordon soon arrived at the station. He was coupled up fast to the special coach. Three men walked out of The Fat Controller's office, followed by the man himself. The men all got in, apart from The Fat Controller, who looked over to Gordon's crew and nodded at them, he then walked into the coach and disappeared.

Gordon's driver then looked in the opposite direction, towards the big engine's smoke box. "Come on then old boy," he said, patting the side of his cab. "When the signal shows green, we'll be off. Good head of steam Cal?"

"Yeah, the fire's burning nicely!" replied the fireman as he swept coal soot off his brow with a handkerchief.

"Right then," said the driver, "We're all ready."

Gordon looked from his cab, to the signal above him. The guard leaned out of the window, readying his blow of his whistle and his arm, waving with the green flag. Gordon's eyes narrowed at the red signal, his aching wheels, ready to be stretched out again like he did back on the Great Northern.

Signal dropped.

Guard blew whistle.

Wheels turning.

They were off.

Gordon picked up speed and was going roughly fifty miles per hour when racing past Thomas' junction.

The tank engine was most shocked. "Is it me?" he asked his driver, "Or did Gordon leave his express behind without noticing?"

Gordon ran across the countryside. Wheels going faster and faster. He lasted station by station. Ran over points by points. His driver checked the regulator and his fireman shovelled the coal into his firebox nearly every minute.

But as he rushed past a signal box, halfway between Crosby and Wellsworth. Gordon felt something aching in his axles. He blinked, now focusing on where the aching was coming from, he grunted just a bit and that caught the attention of his driver

"Everything all right Gordon!" he yelled.

"Yes driver! Everything is fine!" Gordon yelled back. But everything wasn't fine, not one bit.

As Gordon rushed past Wellsworth he felt the aching be joined with a slight pain and his pistons too were starting to feel weird. Gordon growled, sucking in the pain and pressing on towards his hill.

Once starting up the incline, he felt the pain getting worse and worse, and it took over the aching for both his axles and pistons. He bit his lower lip with his teeth, and his breathing became heavier and heavier. But at last he reached the top of the hill.

'Finally!' he thought, 'Now I can get breath when coasting down this hill.'

The second part of his thought was true, but the first part sadly wouldn't be.

Halfway down, a groaning sound came, it came so fast and became so loud as well and in the same second it vanished and was replaced with a loud, shrilling bang and clang and the shriek of the mighty big engine in pain.

"Foster what happened?!" came the sound of The Fat Controller's on the radio in Gordon's cab.

"His axles!" yelled the driver, "They've snapped!"

He was right. Gordon was now out of control, but he wouldn't be for long. As he stormed down the hill and on to flat rails there was another bang, and then clangs and snaps were heard all over the place. Gordon's entire body shifted, moving from side to side and his crew grabbed each side of his cab. The fireman's shovel fell out of Gordon's cab and into the grass below. The scrapping of ballast was heard and the crew began to feel Gordon slowing down. His driver shut off the steam and applied the brakes and Gordon came to holt near a bend that lead to Maron station.

His crew immediately got down and looked to see the damage. They cringed. Gordon pistons had gone, making his side rods jumble up and hit his footplate, which were now dented and smashed.

It was a miracle to say the least to know that Gordon hadn't been knocked out from all the pain. But he wasn't able to move an inch now.

"Take his fire down Cal!" ordered the driver, "There's no way now that he'll be going anywhere."

The fireman did just that, heading back into the cab and damping down the fire. The Fat Controller got down from the dynamometer car and walked over to the driver. He too looked all over Gordon's destroyed pistons and footplate.

"How did this happen?" he asked.

"Gordon should know more about this than I do," replied the driver, "But by the looks of things, his axles look like they've gone too, sir."

"He'll need repairs," pondered The Fat Controller, "I'll get the guard to ring the nearest signal box so to get another engine to take this coach to Maron and arrange a car to take the men back. They won't be to frilled but that's how it goes I guess. I'll then get Mickey to take Gordon to the works, he'll have to stay and be inspected. If that's alright with you Gordon?"

"...Yes sir," came the mumbled of the big engine that sounded very weak.

Meanwhile, I was halted at Wellsworth, the line was apparently blocked because of Gordon not clearing past Maron and I needed to get through with my goods train. Just then, the morning local came into the station. Because of the new deal with the LMS, they now take the train that usually takes people to work from Vicarstown, to Tidmouth. A patriot now took it who usually leaves straight away with another train. His name, was Reginald, he wasn't the kindest engine you would know, but a hard worker.

He came coasting into the station with his ten carriage long train, coming to a stop at the platform. Smirking widely.

"What's so funny?" I asked him.

"Gordon got a little blow over on the other side of that hill he's named after," chuckled Reginald in response. "By the looks of things, he ain't going anywhere any time soon."

I frowned and before I could say anything else, the signal dropped and I had to leave. I soon past Gordon, I was shocked by all the damage he caused to himself, but to be honest with you, it was quiet funny.

I gave a shrill of the whistle and passed by him. "Did say I warned you," I murmured to him as I past, trying to keep a straight face, Gordon didn't reply. Either because he knew I was right, or was too weak to respond.

Edward came and took the dynamometer car back to his station with the men. Whilst Gordon's crew and The Fat Controller stayed with the big engine.

A few minutes later, Mickey arrived with a works unit coach full of engineers. They soon went to work with taking off Gordon's side rods so he could move.

Mickey went to the front of Gordon so he could couple up with him and take the big engine to the works. But Mickey stopped a few yards before that.

"Before I take you to Crovan's Gate Gordon," he started, "I want to ask some questions."

"Alright chief," responded Gordon weakly.

"Apparently from your driver, you have been experiencing groaning in your axles for a while, correct?"

"Correct chief."

"For how long?"

"...Since 1935."

"That's three years ago."

"I know."

"And you didn't tell anyone?"

"Only my crew and colleagues knew."

"Alright, and you didn't go to your controller about this because?"

"Because I just didn't want to."

Mickey pondered. "This will have to go down on your records Gordon, for endangerment of passengers, your crew and yourself."

Gordon understood the terms and once he was able to be moved. Mickey took him to the works to be looked at.

When he got there, he was examined and a full report was written by the CME. The next day, The Fat Controller arrived to the works to check on Gordon.

Gordon was feeling better from the pain. But not mentally. "Hullo Sir," he said, with a downcast look.

"Cheer up Gordon," smiled The Fat Controller, "Even though I'm not best please with you not telling me that you weren't feeling well, but I understand that you were trying to impress me and the inspectors and I forgive you. All the same, you might not be able to given the repairs you need here."

"Pardon sir?"

"You're too damaged Gordon," The Fat Controller informed, "Too much so that Crovan's Gate Works won't be able to handle these repairs."

"Then, what are you going to do sir?" asked Gordon worriedly, "Because if you can't fix me. Then, I'll have to be sent for scrap."

"Rubbish Gordon," said The Fat Controller, "I made a promise to your designer Sir Nigel Gresley that you'll be forever safe here whilst I'm in control. I'm not breaking it. I will find a way to get you running again."

And with that, The Fat Controller left.

*

"And...and get this would you! He...he even almost derailed himself!" laughed Henry, "What a fat face!"

I chuckled a bit. Wasn't going to lie, Gordon was being a bit of a jerk to us and it was great to see karma right up in his face now.

Henry has kept saying rude remarks about Gordon's 'not-actually-an-accident' and didn't look like he was stopping any time soon.

"I guess," laughed Henry, trying repose himself, "I guess I'll be the main express engine for a while then. Possibly permanent."

"Oi!" I exclaimed, "What about me?"

"You can just do the little, insignificant jobs like you always do," replied Henry cheekily.

I wheeshed steam angrily, almost going red as my perfect paintwork. "Now listen here you green cu-"

"Silence!"

Both of us looked to see our controller staring right back at us sternly. "Both if you won't be pulling the express actually, another engine from the LMS will be," he said, Henry's mouth dropped.

"And," continued The Fat Controller, "And I've already found a place where Gordon can be repaired, and possibly overhauled."

"Where's that sir?" I asked.

"Crewe."

"Cr-Crewe sir? repeated Henry with a stutter.

"Is there a problem with that Henry?" asked The Fat Controller.

"No no sir. It's just, Gordon is an LNER A1 Pacific Sir," replied Henry, "And he's going to the top workshop in the LMS. The main rival to Gordon. I don't think he'll like it."

"Well it's the only option Gordon that will give a happy ending, besides, he has needed an overhaul already."

"An overhaul sir!" I gasped.

"Yes," replied The Fat Controller, "Did I not mention that?"

"No sir," replied Henry, "No you didn't."

"Well then, he'll be gone for a long time anyways, so make the visitor feel welcomed."

And with that, The Fat Controller left.

*

~A Few Months Later~

Percy was shunting the Wild Nor' Wester into the station. He was tired and didn't want to deal with him.

But before he could sneak off, a blast of the whistle, and a LMS Jubilee class tender engine came storming into the platform and bumping the coaches. Percy sighed, he puffed past the Jubilee but he couldn't avoid him.

"Oi, pipsqueak!"

Percy closed his eye and came to a stop. "What is it Bahamas?" he asked.

"I want you to go to the back again and give me a push, that's how we did it back in Euston."

"Sorry," said Percy in a snarky way, "But you're not here in Euston."

Bahamas growled. The guard then blew his whistle and the signal went green, and Bahamas left, wheeshing steam rudely at Percy.

"Hate Jubilees," murmured Percy crossly.

Bahamas clattered down the line. Reaching his top speed, which wasn't as fast as Gordon's mind you. But he was going pretty well, he rocketed down the line with his coaches clattering behind him.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" he yelled to them.

"We are coming along! We are coming along!" replied the coaches, a little insulted by his way of speaking to them.

Bahamas raced through Knapford and the Crosby. Until there was a loud bang and a cloud came out of his cab.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, "What on heavens was that?"

"Your safety valve has burst," said the driver, "You won't be able to take the train no more."

"Oh great," wheeshed Bahamas crossly, "I won't be hearing the last of it from those idiots."

His fireman went to the nearest signal box and came back with the news. "Another engine is coming down from here light engine," he informed.

Bahamas rolled his eyes and waited and waited. Until he heard a whistle that echoed across the countryside.

"Who's that?" he asked.

But before anyone could find out, they heard the pounding of pistons and a blur of blue rushed by. Bahamas had never seen anything like that.

The engine rushed all the way to Crosby before being stopped by a red signal and a waving stationmaster.

"The Wild Nor' Wester's engine has broken down," he exclaimed to the crew, "Please take your engine and find the nearest turntable and return."

"Yes of course!" replied the driver, "Now come old boy. We can show that Jubilee class what North Westerns can do."

The engine smiled and puffed quickly off. He soon came back to Bahamas twenty minutes later.

"Sorry for taking a while," excused the engine, "But then again, I wasn't the one who broke down!"

He laughed whilst Bahamas sieved. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Well, haven't the others mentioned me?" asked the engine.

"...Gordon?"

Gordon smiled. "That's me. Now come on, let me show you how an A0 does his work."

Gordon then buffered up to Bahamas and pulled him the rest of the way. "No time to take you off," he said as they passed Wellsworth.

He charged up his hill and plummeted down the other side. He was making good progress. Bahamas was in shock, he had never gone this fast before.

Gordon's driver eased the regulator. "Calm down Gordon!" he called, "We don't have a similar accident like last time!"

Gordon rolled his eyes and as he came into Croven's Gate he was two minutes late. "Better than nothing," he winked to Rheneas.

The gallant engine silently agreed.

*

Gordon made it to Barrow right on time. He removed the Jubilee and shut him out of the way in the yards and puffed back to Tidmouth with the usual passengers service he took when returning to the big station.

When he got back he was given a warm welcome. Henry and I have Gordon all the detailed about Bahamas and how rude and obnoxious he was. I laughed and laughed.

Gordon returned to service the next day, pulling his train proudly and better than before. Gordon said Crewe didn't do a "Doncaster job, but it serves". We all groaned at that, knowing that Gordon was still with us.

Bahamas left on the same day he broke down. The LMS promised that he'll be repaired by them to the NWR and everything went well with the two companies.

Gordon later next week redid his speed test and succeeded going over one hundred miles per hour, he got it at one hundred and six which was still impressive.

And he didn't let it slide from our minds for an entire month.


	18. Ep17: Reunion

~1940~

War wasn't the thing engines liked. Especially when you have to go through two. As you expected, I didn't take it well and neither did Matthew.

The S.R.F. needed another pair of buffers to help with the extra workload and chose me. I was the most experienced out of all the others and I showed it too. Too much.

I was still working for North Western, I only had more work to do and I kept going to the mainland and return with ammunition, guns or any other type of armaments.

The others saw this and were concerned about this.

Gordon and Henry watched in interest one morning as I puffed past them with a train of guns some in vans, some on flatbeds, it some built to be moved by rail.

"What James is doing," said Gordon, "Is abnormal."

"I agree," said Henry, "I mean, you need skill for that type of job. I mean, Matthew said he was in training for six years."

"But then again, he was suppose to be in a higher position than other engines."

"But it still doesn't make sense for they to choose James," said Henry, "I thought they would've me or you to do the work. But no, they chose James and he was taking gunpowder trains on the first day he started."

"It is odd," agreed Gordon, "Then again, apparently back in the First World War, engines were chosen randomly to go to France to help in the front-"

Gordon cut himself off. Henry raised a brow. "Um... hello Gordon," he called, "You haven't finished your sentence."

"Henry," said Gordon, "You don't think James went to France?"

Henry thought for second. "I don't think so," he replied, "I mean, he would've told us by now or we'd have already figured it out by now. I mean it has been fifteen years since James came here, and he is pretty bad at hiding secrets."

"Yeah, you're probably right," said Gordon, "But I'm still going to keep an eye on him."

"Suit yourself," replied Henry, "I'm not stopping you. But I'm not helping either."

And he puffed off. Later that day, Henry was at Vicarstown yards. He was waiting for one of the loaned tank engines to bring his goods train. When he heard a whistle.

"Oh great," he groaned, "Another one of those London North Eastern engines. This won't be a fun week."

If there was an engine that came from the LNER, Gordon would be boasting about it all week about his little brother and many other successful tests done by the railway company.

But this was different, very different. Instead of an engine coated in apple green, covered in the letters LNER. A black engine came into site, pulling a train of armaments. The engine looked like it was from the pre-grouping era. With a less modified look and it carried the letters: R.O.D and a number, 231.

Henry looked at the engine. "Did Sodor Royal Forces send you?" he asked.

The engine looked back at the Henry. Just like me, it had yellow eyes. "Yes."

Henry blinked. "You're-you're female?" he stammered.

"Got a problem with that?" asked the engine.

"No no, not in the slightest," replied Henry quickly, "Just never expected a female engine to be apart of the Railway Operation Division."

"I was accidentally taken into the division when they mistook me as another engine when being sent to France," said the engine, "I did so well though they decided to bring me back into the devision when this new war started."

"I see," replied Henry, there was a moments silence between the two engines, until the green engine decided to break it. "What's your name?"

"It's Molly,"

"Nice, nice, nice," replied Henry, "So... Why here?"

"Your engine is being sent away, he asked for me to take his place at the fort whilst he's gone," replied Molly.

"Why?"

"We've had a history in the front lines."

"I see, how did he find you?"

"Simple," said Molly casually, "Files are easy to find about a female engine who is reassigned into a war devision."

"Right," said Henry simply.

"You like replying with one words don't you?" smirked Molly.

"Maybe," smirked back the green engine.

"Alright, where can I take this train to the fort?" asked Molly.

"You missed it," replied Henry, "It is right before the station."

"Bother," groaned the strong engine, "I knew it was those points back there."

"Just get your crew to ask the yard foreman to go back to the fort," said Henry, "There's a through track here that goes to the fort. Just reverse your train."

"Seems easy," sighed Molly, "Thanks."

"Welcome," beamed Henry.

"Oi! Henry! Ya train is ready!"

"Shut it you old timer!"

"I'm the one that shunted your train for ya!" yelled the loaned tank engine.

"Then be quiet you common thing!"

Henry looked back at Molly who had a raised eyebrow. "Excuse me Molly. I'll talk to you later, but for now, I have to pull a train."

Molly watched as the green engine rolled away. She sniffed. "Common society," she mumbled.

*

"She's odd I can tell you."

"Attractive?"

"Um... I don't know! She's er-"

"She is I can tell you that!"

"What? Have you seen her?"

"Oh yes!" replied Thomas, "But then... who isn't attractive that isn't an engine?"

"True. True," said Gordon, "I mean, we were meant to look handsome."

"Don't get too cocky Gordon," smirked Thomas, "After all, you would be the last engine to 'get the girl' so to speak."

"Pah!" Gordon snorted, "Not like you would be the same in that case! You're to immature!"

"Oh really," growled Thomas, "Well I can say-"

"Shut it the pair of you," whistled Henry, "The Fat Controller doesn't even like female engines working on his railway."

"I wonder why?"

"I don't know either... but that's not case here! A female engine is in the R.O.D and she gave me a scowl when I said something."

"You said common tank engine to that loaned engine didn't you?" smirked Gordon.

"...Maybe."

"Thanks guys!"

"Well he is common," the big engine sniffed.

"Right here you know!"

"Shut it Thomas, Shut it Gordon!" exclaimed Henry.

The three of them went quiet, looking anywhere but each other. Henry then looked back at the two.

"And the one who would be the last to 'get the girl' is probably James."

"...To be fair."

"Yeah I guess that makes sense."

*

"Thanks for agreeing to come Molly, really you're a life saver."

"Don't worry Matthew," laughed Molly, "It's my pleasure."

"Mines too," smiled Matthew.

"So how long are you staying?" asked the strong engine.

"Eh, only for a fortnight," replied Matthew, "Help you with a few ropes. General Alexander just wants you to feel like this is your new home."

"Hope it does," smiled Molly, "After all, back at Colchester wasn't that nice."

"Why's that?"

"I prefer not to say, but I do miss out times in France together."

"Not the best times there either, I hope from your perspective?"

"Oh yes, hated the front lines," replied Molly quickly, "But when coming back to the bases. To talk to the other engines... Gregory, Lamont, No.213, Jimmy..."

Matthew smiled warmly at her. "Yeah..."

"Lamont I know is still alive," said Molly, "And all the rest I knew survived or got blasted up. And Jimmy?"

"Saved my life he did," continued Matthew, "Got his tender destroyed but you know how it goes."

"You sound like he's still alive," said Molly.

Matthew looked over to the strong engine and smiled. "Once I'm gone," said Matthew, completely changing the subject to Molly's knowledge. "Once I'm gone, you won't be alone. Another engine is also working here, belongs to the North Western but he's worked in the front lines like us."

"What's he like?"

"You can find out yourself," smiled Matthew and winked at her. "Can you take that train to Tidmouth now? I can do some shunting here and you can learn the line here too."

*

Percy was shunting some coal trucks in the yards one day. I was watching him nearby, the small engine wasn't thinking straight and crashing the coal trucks into the buffers soot went everywhere and all over Percy.

I cringed. "Watch it there!"

"Yeah, yeah," mumbled Percy.

"How can you even cope with having your paint dirty?" I asked.

"Because I ain't a wussy," replied Percy.

I growled. "Shut it you caterpillar with red stripes!" I said.

Percy gasp. "How dare you!" he exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes. "Nobody cares about your opinion you common little pipsqueak!"

"Excuse me!"

My eyes widen, I have heard that voice before, but it can't be? She should be somewhere else, possibly dead. She can't be... Molly?

"You better watch your tongue," said the strong engine, she looked over at Percy with a caring glance.

"Don't mind him," she said, "I have to deal with these types of engines before hand. They aren't really intelligent with their manners."

She couldn't see me since I was facing the opposite way, and I couldn't see her fully either. But could see a glance of what was her.

She was then uncoupled and pulled off.

"What's your name ma'am?" asked Percy.

"My name is Molly," chuckled Molly, "And please call me by that. I don't like using formalities."

"Alright," replied Percy, "I'm Percy! That over there is James."

"Percy ehh?" smiled Molly, "What a lovely name."

"Are you a new engine?" asked Percy.

"No, not technically," replied Molly, "I'm just here to work for Sodor Royal Forces."

"But-but isn't that only male engines?" asked Percy, puzzled.

"Well, yes, but I got in there by accident," replied Molly, "A few misunderstandings."

"Oh. Ohhhh," replied Percy, forming a huge round hole on his mouth.

"Well, I best be off," replied Molly, "I'm suppose to collect some armaments. Do you know where they are?" The

"Oh of course!" peeped Percy, "Go further down to the docks where there'll be some sidings. They'll be in siding three."

"Alright, first set of sidings I see?"

"Yep," replied Percy.

"Thank you Percy," smiled Molly, "And I hope to see more of you soon."

She looked over to me who I was still facing the same way.

"Good bye, James," she said, but not in the caring way she said to Percy, but more harsh and stern.

I winced and she puffed by me. We both couldn't see each other's faces but I knew it was definitely her when she puffed past me. I gasped, she still looked the same as in the war.

Percy came up to me as soon as Molly was out of site. Smirking cheekily. "Well James," he started, "And I thought you were good with girls!"

Anger built up inside of me. "Shut it Percy."

Percy stared. He knew me a lot by now, and I have to admit, this side of me hadn't been shown in a while, too long for a while now. I stared at him with a strict, cold glance. Too many emotions to show Percy what I actually felt.

Anger, shocked, stressed, disappointed that Molly didn't even recognise my own voice.

I puffed away. I didn't want to show my face to anyone at the moment. Nobody. Percy only watched me.

*

"So what do you think?"

Molly looked over at Matthew - who was shunting some trucks at the fort - with a raised eyebrow. "Think of what, precisely?"

"The railway and engines, what else!" laughed Matthew.

"Well, the countryside is beautiful," said Molly, "And the docks, stations and yards are very interesting."

"And the engines?"

"Well," chuckled Molly, "There quite the characters. I met this LMS Black Five who claims to be actually a Green Five."

"Yes he is," interrupted Matthew, "He has had some special modifications. Plus the Fowler tender."

"Alright," hummed the strong engine, "Then there's this LNER A1 or 3 whose has been heavily modified."

"That's Gordon, he used to be classed as an A1, but when being rebuilt at Crewe after some parts needed heavy repairs, he became an LNER A0," said Matthew.

"Oh, that's interesting," smiled Molly.

"It is," agreed the war engine, "This railway is pretty much a dumping ground for modified engines or completely failed test engines."

"Yeah, I saw today too a saddle tank of no class whatsoever called Percy," continued Molly, "And he was being insulted by this red engine called James."

Matthew stared. "Pardon?"

"The red engine James, was insulting an engine called Percy," said Molly, a bit more loudly so to make sure Matthew got it through his head.

"You didn't actually talk to James?" asked Matthew slowly.

"No," replied Molly, "And he didn't to me either. He just went... silent when I was there. Why do you ask?"

"Because you'll be working with him tomorrow."

Molly stared at the war engine. "You can't be joking?"

"Oh I am not," replied Matthew, more sternly. "Tomorrow evening. You two will double head a train from Tidmouth docks and bring it here. Understood?"

"But-"

"Understood?"

Molly sighed. "Yes I understand."

"Great! beamed Matthew, "James will get told in the morning and when arriving here. He'll stay here."

*

"I-I'm going to double head with her?"

"Yes," replied the inspector, "Then once you get to the fort at Vicarstown, you'll will be apart of the S.R.F. Got that?"

"Yes sir," replied I.

The inspector nodded and walked away. Gordon stared at James. "I have a question for you James," he said.

"Yeah, and what's that?" I asked the big engine next to him in the shed.

"How do you know all of this?" asked Gordon, "How do you know how to pull trains full of gunpowder, heavy military machines and troop trains like it's just a normal run?"

I stared at him for a few moments. "I learnt from Matthew," I replied, and puffed away.

*

The day went on as usual. War trains was still a major job for my daily basis back then, so I would usually take about five trains a day for an average when still working for North Western in the Second World War.

When the evening came, I was being prepared for the trip which would lead me to my new commanders.

I was prepped, clean, and filled with coal and water. I set out to the docks, where I would meet Molly.

To my surprise when I got there. Molly was already waiting. Again, she was facing the same direction as I was, so when I puffed by her and the train, I could only take a glimpse of her face. She wasn't looking at me though, only looking the other way.

"Hope you don't get rude with the other engines," she remarked, "I like to have peaceful run."

"Ain't going to be one with the war and all," I muttered quietly.

"What was that?!" called Molly, as I ran over the points up ahead.

I stayed quiet. Molly scoffed in annoyance. I was quickly coupled to the front and we both set off.

We raced down the mainline. Trees and fields rushed past, as well as stations and signal boxes. We began to climb Gordon's hill, and with the long, heavy train we had, it was quite the climb. But we manage to get to the top and coast down it.

But trouble soon emerged.

As we rushed past Maron and around the steep bend, a loud clang came from behind and a shrill of the whistle came from Molly, telling us to stop.

My driver obliged and the train came to a stop a few miles near Cronk. My driver got down to see Molly's driver checking her all over. "What happened?" he asked.

"Bloody spring snapped," replied Molly's driver, "She won't be going anywhere now in her own power."

"We have to get this train somewhere though!" called my fireman, "This train is said to be urgent."

"All war trains are supposed to be urgent Margaret!" called my driver to the female fireman.

Molly's driver gave a glance to my driver.

"Old fireman at the front lines," replied my driver, "Women taking over the jobs, you know how it is."

"...Right," said Molly's driver, "But how are we going to get this train to the fort with only one engine?"

"By only one engine pulling the train."

Both crews turned to me.

"I can still take the train," I continued, "It's only a few miles and the worst part has passed."

Both drivers gave a glance with each other.

"It's worth a shot," shrugged my driver.

Molly's driver sighed and nodded. "We'll keep the brakes off until needed," he said, and headed back into the cab. So did my own.

"Come old boy," whispered my driver, "Show those soldiers what you did back in the first great war."

I pumped my pistons and wheeshed steam. Preparing myself for the strain. Driver opened the regulator and I began to turn my wheels. Molly followed behind and so did the rest of the train.

Because of one train being down, it was a lot harder to pull the train and it didn't go as fast either. I puffed harder and harder, crossing the viaduct after Cronk and continuing through Killdane, then Kellsthorpe, then Croven's Gate, through Henry's Tunnel. Then went over the switch to the fort to the south west corner of Vicarstown and puffed into the yard of the fort. Tired and worn out, but triumphant, as I came to a stop.

Matthew saw everything and took Molly and I out of the way and shunted both of us in the sheds in each birth. He then puffed away to deal with the we both brought from the other side of the island.

I watched him leave and then looked over to Molly from my left. Who was staring at my face.

"What is it?" I asked. Courage gaining.

"Your scar," she said.

I looked to my cheek. "Yeah, got that in the war," I replied, "Metal flew into that spot and stained it. Should see Matthew though, his scars make him look like he got the full blast of the blow."

"Your face," Molly continuing, "I recognise it."

"Hope you do," I said, "I mean, I recognise your voice the moment you spoke."

Molly narrow her eyes. My voice was in her head, my face too, and she pondered, and when speaking about Matthew's scar on the bridge of his nose. It sounded like he was-

Her eyes widen. She looked at me in shock, staring from the back of my tender, to my front buffer beam.

"J-Jimmy?" she asked.

"It's James now," I smiled, "But yes. It's me."

Molly opened her mouth. Trying to create the words she wanted. "Y-You-You've changed quite a lot," she spoke.

"Yeah," I said, "Got modifications in an experiment to see if they can modify the Class 28s. Didn't go well."

A tear came to Molly' eye. "I thought you died," she said, "Matthew never said anything to me when he returned, he said there were many ways you couldn't come out of it. You'd been salvaged, or scrapped."

"Luckily salvaged," I chuckled, I was, by now tearing up and I began to tell her what happened after I was sent back to Britain and how I got here.

Many years were shredded that evening and night. We caught up with each other, and when Matthew came back, Molly gave him a lecture on how to actually tell an engine of a long lost engine was still alive.

The next week, I worked for Sodor Royal Forces. Matthew had taught Molly and I on how to run the base properly.

Molly found out that I hadn't told all of the engines in my fleet that I was an engine from the First World War. Only Edward knew that i was, but promise not to tell anyone when figuring it out in 1927.

Percy was in awe that I was in the front lines. Thomas and Gordon couldn't believe it. Eagle just stayed silent. Henry's jaw dropped. Whiff was startled. Emily was furious that I hadn't told all of them, but kept quiet about it.

Matthew soon left two weeks later after this and we all wished him well Then Molly and I worked at the fort alone together.

This caused us to have a lot of privacy with each other and we became... more than close friends.

We kept that a secret until a month later. Let's just say that Percy had bragging rights for apparently, they were betting on who would 'get a girl' first. I was at the bottom for all the engines' predictions and they didn't invite me to join too.

I had never felt so proud and angry at the same time.


	19. Ep18: All At Sea

~1944~

~A Month After D-Day~

World War Two was still in commence and Molly and I were working hard at the fort by the sea. Both of us worked as hard as ever, from early morning to late at night.

Some ships, come from the mainline with machinery to increase the fort's weapons and protect the island for any invasion from the Nazis. Other ships would come empty and would take soldiers and supplies to France or Southern England.

Molly and I were kept busy nearly everyday and every night. Going backwards and forwards with troop trains and trains full armaments.

One early morning, me and Molly were getting ready at the sheds we were held at. It was at the very corner of the fort and we could see the ocean, sparkling in the sun. A boat laid nearby, sitting next to the dock, we both knew it was for troops to be sent to France. The top lieutenants never keep these things secret to each other unless it was very important for the war effort that the Nazis can't even hear it from soundproof walls.

Molly watched the ocean. "You know, I've always wanted to go far away lands," she said suddenly.

"What does that mean?" I asked, "We've already gone to France that's a once in a lifetime experience for a locomotive's career."

"Not like that," replied Molly, "I mean like actually work on a foreign railway. Pull different types of rolling stock, see much different landscapes, different houses."

"Yeah, no thanks," said I, looking very doubtful. "I prefer to stay on familiar ground."

"Well I think it could be grand," said Molly, looking dreamily off.

I just stared at her and sighed. "Come Now James!" called my driver, "Your all set to go!"

"Alright," I replied, "I'll see you in a bit Molly!"

"See you later," smiled Molly as she watched me leave the sheds.

Later on, Molly came into Vicarstown yards, to collect some empty vans. She then saw small little boats racing across the winds of the ocean.

"What on earth?" said Molly.

"That's the regatta," said her driver, "People race boats across the ocean with no engine and need only wind for their power."

"Wow," said Molly.

She was impressed. So impressed that when she came back to the fort. She wouldn't stop talking about the regatta.

I was soon getting tired of hearing her talks about it.

"Now come on Molly," I said, when midday came. "Why talk about the regatta, going to far away lands or beyond the horizon? You've got a nice firm rails here that are nice and comfortable. Now if you went to a foreign railway, the rails won't be as good as here. The engines would much different and it won't feel like home."

"But it would be nice to go somewhere that isn't France," replied Molly, "Don't you think?"

"Nope," I said quickly, "I prefer to stay on English rails, and I would want to keep it that way."

Molly sighed. "If you say so then."

Then a lieutenant came up to the pair. "No.231, there is to be a train full of injured soldiers at one of the docks on the mainland, mostly from Sodor, you must go and collect them and bring it back here to Peel Godred. Understood?"

"Yes sir!" replied Molly.

The lieutenant nodded and walked away.

I stared at Molly. A bit surprised for the arrangements. "Why did they ask you?" I complained, "They should've asked me. I've been down those lines on the mainland more than you!"

"Because I was the engine who was pulling these types of trains more than you back in the First World War," replied Molly, "Equalling that I'm more experience taking these trains. But hopefully, they don't have rotting trucks playing as coaches."

Molly left half an hour later. Taking a few trucks with her. I watched her leave, and got back to work.

*

Molly got to the docks on the mainland and left the trucks with a dock shunter. She was then told where to go and found the many lines of coaches with engines placed in front. The ship had already arrived and injured soldiers were being carried off the massive beast, and into the carriages. Molly backed down on one of the lines of coaches. An LMS Stannier 2P tank engine looked over next to Molly.

"Ay, you're that famous female engine that worked in the First World War, aren't ya?" he asked, covered by a thick midland accent.

"Indeed," replied Molly.

"Pleasure ta meet ya!" smiled the Stannier 2P, "Name's Cedric."

Both then looked back down the dock. Men lying on bed carriers and some were just standing or sitting with bandaged hands, casts on legs or feet or heads wrapped with bandages too.

Molly didn't say anything. But the Stannier 2P did. "Awful, ain't it?" he said.

"Hmm," replied Molly.

Then suddenly men came rushing off the ship and called for the train to Sodor. Doctors ran to what they were carrying and then one came running to Molly's crew.

"There's a severely injured soldier who's life is at risk," informed the doctor quickly to the driver. "Please take the train as fast as you can. He is now the last soldier to be on your train, so you're allowed to go."

"Alright," said Molly's driver, "We just need to wait-"

The sound of a guard's whistle was heard, and the waving of a green flag was seen at the back of Molly's train.

"Alright," said the driver, "We're off then."

He then released the regulator and blasted the whistle. "Come on old girl," he said, "Soldiers lives are at stake her."

Molly wheeshed steam and wheel turn by wheel turn, she pulled the seven long coach train out of the dock.

"Good luck luv'!" shouted the Stannier 2P.

Molly didn't reply. She was too busy focusing on getting up to speed. She eventually came onto the mainline and pounced on it. Going as fast as her driver would let her.

"We still have a speed limit!" he called.

But Molly didn't care, as she whooshed across a bridge. Other engines whistled her on as she flew down the line. She thundered through Barrow station and switched off the Furness line and onto the North Western's mainline. She crossed the Vicarstown bridge and pasted me before heading straight into Henry's tunnel. I pounded towards Killdane, where an electric engine was waiting for me. I rushed out of the tunnel, went over the points to the branch line and came to a stop next to the electric engine.

"There's the famous war heroine herself!" smiled the electric engine.

Molly panted. "Hello," she gasped for a air, "Hello Nelson!"

"Come on dear," said Nelson, "If I'm going to take these injure soldiers, you've got to-"

Nelson trailed off as Molly moved off the train. Nelson quickly followed her to the points.

Soon enough, Molly and Nelson had switched tracks and the electric engine was now on the train. As he was being coupled up, Nelson looked over to Molly.

"You were flying down the line Molly not going lie," he said, "James lucky to have an engine like you."

He winked at her and pulled out of the station and down the line. Molly rolled her eyes with a smirk on her face.

As Molly turned around the turntable, headed off the branch line and puffed down the mainline light engine. She couldn't stop thinking about what Nelson had said, and what I had said this morning and midday.

I was working in the yards at the fort. When Molly returned.

"Had a pleasant run I saw?" I teased, whilst shunting trucks into place.

"Indeed," smiled Molly, "Listen, can we both stay out here tonight? Right over there at that key."

I looked over to where Molly's glance went. I smiled. "Sure. Just make sure there ain't no trucks in the sidings so we have a good view."

Molly beamed.

*

That night, Molly and I stayed late at night watching the sun go down. Just as it disappeared into the horizon. A soldier came running up to my crew.

"A message for No.231 from Peel Godred hospital," he said, and gave it to Molly's driver.

He opened the letter and read it to the strong engine.

"Dear R.O.D. No.231,

I would like to thank you for saving my life. I was one of the injured soldiers on your train today, even though I didn't know that, and I found myself in Peel Godred hospital. A nurse is writing this letter because I'm too weak to do it at the moment.

Apparently, you were rocketing down the line and if you weren't, well I would've died from my injuries. So as a thank you gift , I give you something special from me. It'll be in the envelope as well as this letter.

Yours Faithfully,

Mr Shaun Jones."

Molly's driver blinked. "Shaun Jones?" my driver exclaimed, "You mean the famous-"

"Yes indeed," beamed Molly's driver.

"Who's Shaun Jones?" quizzed Molly.

"Shaun Jones is a famous regatta racer!" explained Molly's driver, "He's won six times in a row!"

He then pulled out a flag out of the envelope. "And he's giving you his first Sudrian Regatta Winner's flag!"

Molly smiled at me. "What a kind man," she said.

I agreed. Suddenly, an idea flew into my funnel. "Drivers," I called, "Can you leave Molly and I here for the night please?"

The drivers looked up from admiring the flag. "Are you sure?" asked my driver.

"Positive," I said.

They paused, then shrugged. Both firemen damped down our fires and left us there until tomorrow. Molly stared at me confused. "Why?" she asked.

"Simple," smiled I, "You've got something from a person whose gone on water, so that's half of one of your wishes, right?"

Molly paused, thinking for a second. "Yeah. You could put that way," she said.

"So why don't we watch the horizon when it becomes dawn," I said, "You might not go there. But you'll still see it! So that's half of a wish too. Making both half wishes one."

Molly stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing.

*

We both watched the horizon early. We were lucky we could see the sun come out from the ocean with the foggy hills of Cumbria on the mainland.

Molly enjoyed her wish that night and dawn.

Though she still wonders about the horizon and dreams to sail to far away lands.

But she knows that sometimes, the best travels are those that she can only dream about.

Don't you?


	20. Ep19: The Reverend

~1945~

The war had ended, no more fighting, Germany had lost and the allies had won, but at a cost.

We were all informed that Matthew, the war engine. Perished in combat, whilst stopping a Nazi train full of armaments get to Paris.

We were all in mourning. Molly and I especially. But we had to continue on, work as usual, I was still needed at the base to ease things a bit, but soon only went there when needed. I was pretty much back with the North Western again, and nothing eventful happened.

Until a few weeks later.

Thomas came into the yard to see Edward, Henry and Gordon all talking to each other.

"What is this?" asked the tank engine, "Is Gordon and Henry asking you Edward to learn how to shunt in secrecy?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny Thomas," wheeshed Henry sarcastically, "Why don't you just puff along and get some fish into your tanks."

Thomas' cheeks when as bright as the red lining on each engine there. "Why don't you sneeze little boys ok bridges again," he said, "You know how the parents' reacted and it went into court to the railway."

Henry growled. "Why don't-"

"That's enough!" yelled Edward.

"We are talking about this book," said Gordon, after a moment of silence.

"A book?" said Thomas puzzled.

"A book called 'The Three Railway Engines'," added Henry.

"It's about us in four stories," said Edward, "One where I was stuck in some sheds and let out and had to wait for a guard to arrive who was late. Then you remember when I had to push Gordon up his hill."

"It isn't my hill," grumbled Gordon.

"Anyways," ignored Edward, "He also wrote that down in a second story. The third story was about Henry when he got stuck in his tunnel and when The Fat Controller bricked him up. The fourth was about how he was let out again."

"Like Gordon, not my tunnel."

"Then why are they called Gordon's hill and Henry's tunnel?" quizzed Thomas cheekily.

Gordon and Henry grumbled with each other.

"A reverend came in 1941," continued Edward, "He asked us three many questions about are railway and how we run it and what has happened in the past. He told his son about the first three stories, and in the end the fourth story came too when being published in May. It has become very popular with children."

"So, only you three are in it?" asked Thomas.

"Yes we are," replied Gordon, "Eagle made an appearance in a picture too. As well as Alfred and Simon, silly decision if you ask me to put them in there."

Thomas' brow crinkled. He couldn't stop thinking about it all day. Percy and I found out too and I wasn't too pleased that the other three had all the attention. I'm not going to lie, I was complaining a lot at that time, and a lot of it had to be listened to by Percy.

Thomas wasn't too pleased of this either and also would complain. But to his faithful coaches, Annie and Clarabel.

"It isn't fair," he said to them as they puffed down the line one evening. "Edward, Henry and Gordon get to go in a book and not me! I was there at the time!"

"He's quite upset. He's quite upset," sang Annie to Clarabel.

"We mustn't aggravate him," sang Clarabel to Annie, agreeing with her.

Thomas reached Ffarquhar and shunted the coaches into their shed and then backed into his own. But whilst he was being cleaned, his fireman suddenly felt icky.

"I'll be fine," he said, waving the driver off.

But he wouldn't. He didn't arrive the next morning and Thomas and his driver were told that he was taken ill from his wife and won't be coming in.

So a relief fireman was ordered and a man with brown hair and big glasses arrived in under an hour. Thomas thought it was Whiff for a second.

"Hullo," called the man, "My name is Wilbert."

"Nice to meet you Wilbert," smiled Thomas' driver, "I'm Lachlan, and this here is Thomas."

Thomas was expecting something of a nod from the relief fireman. After all, relief drivers or firemen don't really interact with us engines. But instead, Wilbert waved and gave a smile to the tank engine.

"Hello Thomas," he called, "Pleasure to meet you. I would want to shake a hand, but not really going to work!"

He and Lachlan chuckled at that. Thomas smirked. Wilbert was taught on how to run Thomas' fire, he was a fast learner and when Thomas was waiting at the station for his first passenger train of the day, his steam was roaring as usual.

Thomas soon puffed out when the train was ready.

Both engine and man asked questions with each other whilst Thomas' driver grinned. Knowing something that Thomas didn't.

Thomas soon returned to Ffarquhar with a mix-train and a few minutes set out again with another mix-train.

The tank engine felt more in a good mood then ever, he sang with Annie and Clarabel as they rolled down the line with clattering trucks behind them.

As Thomas was nearing Toryreck, he heard the roaring of a bus and he came next to a roar which ran alongside the railway. Then appeared Bertie the bus.

"Hello Bertie!" peeped Thomas.

But Bertie wasn't paying attention, he was grumbling and was bouncing along the road. He almost cursed, Thomas didn't say anything else. He just left the bus - who stopped at a bus stop - and continued to Toryreck.

Thomas waited for Bertie as he arrived.

"Bad luck Bertie," said Thomas to the bus who came to a stop at the station. "Now if you were a steam engine, you can run on reliable rails."

"Pher" replied Bertie, "The railway was suppose to send tar to fix the roads two weeks ago. You can't trust a thing that runs on rails."

"Oh thanks Bertie," huffed Thomas, "Tell you what, I'll try to find where the tar is. It must've got onto the wrong train or something, but you can trust me to find out where the tar is."

Thomas left Bertie and traveled along his branch line towards the big station by the sea.

Meanwhile at Tidmouth. I was there, banging trucks around the yard. I was pissed off. Percy had burst a safety valve and was needed to go to the works, this meant James had to fill in until Percy returned the next day.

"It's ridiculous!" I exclaimed, "Whenever Percy gets himself in a pickle I have to do his work! It's disgusting!"

He then ran into some trucks with a mighty bump. "Oh oh oh oh!" moaned the trucks, "Just you wait! We'll show you!"

Then an inspector arrived. "No.5, you must go down the Ffarquhar branch line and pick up some stone trucks from the Anopha quarry," he informed, "No.6 was meant to take them but is now unavailable as you must know. Please take empties and come back with full stone for No.3's goods tomorrow."

He left. I fumed. "How dare he say that I have to go down the Ffarquhar branch line to collect dirty trucks from dirty sidings!"

Gordon was nearby, he had heard everything. "James!" he called, grabbing my attention, "I think you could stop collecting those things instead."

"And how?"

"Simple, pretend you're ill."

I pondered. "Not a bad idea," I said, smiling at the big engine. We both heard a peep and Thomas came in with vans from his branch line.

'Perfect, Thomas is here. He'll have no choice but to do it,' I thought.

I began to make myself look ill.

Thomas came up alongside, for once in his life he was actually sorry to see us look miserable. "Cheer up," smiled the tank engine, "It's a beautiful day!"

"Yes," grunted Gordon, "But not for James."

"What's the matter?" asked Thomas.

"He's sick," replied Gordon simply.

"Yes he is-I mean I am, I am," I stuttered, "I-I don't feel well at all!"

"Don't worry," sympathised Thomas, "I'll help if you're ill."

Gordon and I looked at each other, and then back at the tank engine that looked like Thomas. "A-are you sure Thomas?" I asked.

"Positive!" said Thomas, "Now what do you need me to do?"

"I was supposed to collect stone trucks from the Anopha quarry on your branch line as Percy is away and then bring them back here."

"Well I can't bring them all the way back here, but I can be sure to bring them to my junction. If you're feeling any better you can collect you're trucks at the junction and bring them back here,"

"Alright," I replied, "Doubt it though, but they're for tomorrow on Henry's goods do you have time tonight."

"Let's see if my mood is the same," chuckled Thomas.

"You're suppose to take empties there too!" added Gordon.

"Oh yes! That's right!" I said.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said, and puffed away.

I looked over to Gordon with a confused glance.

"That means yes," said Gordon.

He was right. Thomas picked up the trucks and took them with him back to his branch line. The trucks were planning on paying me out for bumping the other trucks earlier, but they couldn't since it was Thomas.

"Well if he bumps our friends, we can do the same thing to his," said a trucks to the others quietly.

The others agreed, they would get their chance as Thomas took them to the Anopha quarry and filled them up. He had a plan, he would do what he just done, them take the loaded trucks to Ffarquhar and take his next goods train with him which was waiting in the yards there. Then he would take them all to his junction.

He shunted the brake van in place at the back, went round the train, buffered up and reversed his way out of the quarry and down the tramway.

Before the line goes through the town, it would go past a crossing, then over a bridge over a river and then travel through fields and points laid there. The line splits in two. Whilst one heads into the town, the other goes along a rickety old line, which hadn't been used in ages, it was used for horses in the Victorian era when the coffee pots still ran the line, it had a little ferry thing, so to carry trucks across a large and deep lake, that was why horses only used this section of track. But it became redundant for not being viable and not being important since the introduction of lorries.

Points are operated by an AB switch, inside them, is a ring which holds down the switch blades, there are two on each side. But the rings were getting rusty, and when Thomas last went over the points, one side suddenly broke. Causing the switch blades to break on one side, the points were now directing towards the rusted line.

Thomas didn't know, and neither the trucks. But when Thomas thundered over them, he was taken by surprise, so was Wilbert and his driver. The trucks chance had come.

"On! On! On! they yelled and banging into each shoved Thomas forwards and knocking his driver off the footplate. Wilbert seized control without no hesitation and began to break the tank engine.

Thomas did his best. But he was already going down the small slope towards the lake. He hit the wooden buffers - which were placed when the line shut down - which broke instantly and ran onto the raft.

Thomas was still on the rails luckily and so were the trucks. But the old raft couldn't take Thomas' weight and began to descend into the water.

"Back Thomas!" shouted Wilbert, "Back! Back!"

Thomas tried. But the trucks were refusing to move. "Come on! Come on!" wheezed the tank engine.

"Come on Thomas!" called Wilbert, "I know you can do it!"

"I can't," gasped Thomas, "They're too heavy."

"Believe you can," replied Wilbert, "Believe, God will guide you."

"God?!"

"Yes, try harder, and God will notice you're stress," said Wilbert.

Thomas began to push harder and harder and then, the trucks began to move. The raft shuddered with Thomas' wheels spinning. Suddenly, the tank engine covered in blue pulled forward, making the raft almost go up right, and he shoved the trucks backwards, making them release their breaks and the tank engine landed on firm ground again.

He gasp with relief. Wilbert sat down in the cab and Thomas' driver came to see if both were all right.

Thomas' buffer beam was badly damaged for him to move any further and Mickey was ordered upon the scene.

He quickly took the trucks out of the way first and then came back for Thomas later. Thomas was then loaded onto a flatbed by Judy and Jerome.

"Don't worry dear," smiled Judy, "You were very brave with being on that raft."

"I'm surprised it didn't sank quicker!" laughed Jerome.

Thomas smiled a bit, but still felt a little depressed. Once Thomas was loaded up, Mickey got Thomas train all ready, shunted Thomas, Judy and Jerome in front.

Whilst going down the line, Thomas remembered what Bertie had said. 'Maybe Mickey knows,' he thought.

Mickey did know and when Thomas asked him about missing tar for the roads near Toryreck. The fire engine explained everything.

"Three tar tankers were thought to be secretly supplying illegal alcohol in them," explained Mickey, "They were taken off Henry's goods two weeks and went under inspection, they were reported that there was no illegal alcohol and that it was just tar in all three. Don't worry Thomas, we must've forgot to tell the railway that it was all clear to take the tar away. I'll make sure to get the tar to the roads by the end of this week."

When Gordon and I heard the whole incident, we were shocked. I felt quite guilty and went to see him when he was brought into the yards, as well as Gordon too.

I was punished for what I did with pulling goods trains until Thomas got back and Gordon and Henry switched jobs for the rest of the week.

Thomas was secretly humbled by this.

Later on, before Thomas was going to be sent away to the works, Wilbert arrived to see him.

"Hullo Thomas," he said, "How are you feeling?"

"Less stressed when being on that raft," replied Thomas.

Wilbert chuckled. "Well at least you were allowed to get off it."

Thomas raised a brow. "What do you mean by, allowed?"

"God allowed you to get off it dear Thomas," said Wilbert, "You were being kind to others and he has awarded you by being allowed to escape the depths of the waters from the lake."

"You're a believer of God?" asked Thomas, "Like, apart of the church?"

"Well yes," said Wilbert, "I am apart of the church and apart of God. After all, I am a reverend."

"A reverend?" said Thomas. A moment of silence for Thomas to think it through, he could not believe that his relief fireman was an actual reverend. He sniffed as a thought came to mind, a smirk grew on his lips.

"What is it?" asked Wilbert.

"A reverend wrote a book about us," said Thomas, "Well, wrote a book about the three engines of our railway. Edward, Henry and Gordon. And you're a reverend, that's a slight coincidence."

"Well then," chuckled Wilbert, "Imagine the coincidence of this reverend being the same reverend who wrote the book."

"Yeah. That would be a-"

Thomas stopped and looked down at Wilbert, who was smiling innocently.

"No you're not!" exclaimed the tank engine.

"But I am," nodded Wilbert.

"Y-you're the author of that book?!"

"Indeed I am."

Thomas paused and blinked a couple times. "That is just a coincidence."

Wilbert chuckled. "Indeed."

"But I thought you lived in the mainland?"

"Oh I do," replied Wilbert, "I'm just here to do a little research and do a bit of work too. That's why I'm being a relief fireman until I can go home with what I need."

"What type of research?"

"Research for a new book I'm making," replied Wilbert, he then looked up at Thomas and smiled broadly. "And I know what's it going to be about."

Thomas' eyes widen. "M-me?"

Wilbert nodded. "Your adventures are around the time after the three railway engine," he said, "I'll have to change a few things so to keep it simple for the children and simplify it too. But I think we can do it."

Thomas beamed.

Thomas began telling all his stories and Wilbert settled on doing the adventure of when he was first a station pilot, to being a branch line engine.

Four stories were settled on, and like what Wilbert said, they were changed a lot. The first story wasn't even about Thomas in real life for Christ's sake!

After that, the book was published in 1946 and Thomas became a popular in a matter of weeks, people started asking him questions, and I was too, mainly about my accident though.

Wilbert will eventually do the stories about me though and the rest of the railway in the many years to come.

He was also close friends with The Fat Controller, and let's just say he found out his nickname we called him.

Those were sweaty times I tell you.

But the reverend was a kind man to us, guided by God and we were okay with that, and he was okay with us not believing in God either.

And he was a brilliant man anyways. One of the best we've known.


	21. Ep20: Cows

**~1948~**

British Railways was formed only a couple of months ago when this event took place. Most engines from previous railways were repainted and given a worthy checkover to see if their were any damages or should be given modifications to their designs. Only a few engine didn't get these.

One of them was Molly.

The strong engine wasn't doing well. She needed an overhaul fast, her parts were worn and she wasn't at her best with strength. One day she was collecting twenty coal wagons from Brendam and taking it back to the fort at Vicarstown.

The sun shone, birds sang. The trucks for groaned and moaned at Molly. "Shut it back there!" she yelled and gave them a sharp bump.

"Oh oh oh oh!" screamed the trucks in their silly way.

Molly had past Suddery and was going to past some cows grazing in a field nearby. But the cows had been placed there this morning, and weren't use to trains since they use to graze in the north.

Molly rattled by with the yelling trucks. With a shriek of her whistle, the cows' heads bolted up. They all ran towards Molly and rammed into the fence breaking it and smack into the trucks.

A coupling broke, and the last seven trucks left the rails and went a few yards before coming to a halt.

Molly felt the jerk, but she didn't care, she was use to trucks.

"Bother those stupid things," she growled to herself, "Why can't they come quietly?"

She continued on to Wellsworth, where Edward was there with a passenger train. Edward raised a confused eyebrow, when Molly came in and stopped on the second platform next to Edward.

"Molly," he started, "Where is your break van?"

"Break van," said Molly, "It's on the back of my train isn't it? I've checked before I left Brendam."

"Then why isn't it there then?"

Molly's driver looked back and gasp. "So it isn't, and some of your trucks aren't there either!"

Molly was shocked too. Eventually, the stationmaster got a call from a signalman further up the line and explained the whole situation to them.

"Are the cows alright?" asked Molly.

"Most of them are," replied the stationmaster, "But three are injured and one dead."

Molly sighed. "And I thought the day was going to go well," she said to herself.

News soon spread down the line about Molly's misfortune. Emily found out to at Vicarstown with Reginald and they found it a great joke.

"Molly, getting stopped by a cow!" cried Emily, "What a joke!"

"They won't dare do that to any of us!" sneered Reginald, "I'll show them!"

Gordon and Henry, who were nearby, were cross at their remarks.

"Don't you dare say that about Molly," said Gordon crossly, "She's going through a lot today. Don't make things worse."

"What? They're just cows!" smiled Emily.

"That are breathing Emily!" exclaimed Henry, "I bet if it was another engine like Eagle or Thomas you wouldn't be laughing!"

"Pah!" snorted Emily.

"Can't you two take jokes?" jeered Reginald, "Gordon? I know you can!"

"I only make them when no living creature is hurt," said Gordon sternly, "But when there is and you two are making fun of it... it's just... disgraceful!"

"Despicable!" fumed Henry.

Reginald just rolled his eyes.

"And besides," continued Henry, "You both haven't even met cows. I haven't either, but I have heard from some and they sound like trouble. They ain't like some animals that move straight away you know."

Emily and Reginald just laughed together and puffed away. Leaving Gordon and Henry fuming with each other.

"Why cant they be nice?" fumed Gordon.

"Well, Emily has been having a grudge for Molly ever since they first met," said Henry.

"Why's that?"

"I don't know," said Henry, "Something about her being in the Sodor Royal Forces."

A few days later, I was waiting at Kellsthorpe Road station with Eagle. They then heard a loud whistle, and the next thing they knew, Reginald blasted through.

"Poop poop poop!" he cried, "Mind the cows!"

I seethed in anger. "Does he even know that this is a serious matter?" I exclaimed to Eagle, "I mean, the S.R.F. are being sued by the farmer!"

"Indeed," said Eagle, "He doesn't know anything about law that patriot."

Regional was going fast and thundered over the viaduct and through Cronk station and carried on Up ahead, a few miles before Maron station, was a bridge that crossed over a road and a river going along it. Reginald then realised there was something on the bridge. His driver saw it too.

"Woah Reginald!" he yelled and applied his breaks.

"Huh," wheeshed Reginald, "It's only a cow!"

Reginald slowly moved onto the bridge. He expected the cow to move, but she didn't. "Shoo!" yelled Reginald, "Shoo! Shoo!"

But the cow didn't shoo. It just stayed on Reginald's track, mooing loudly and sadly.

Reginald growled. "Stupid thing," he said, and wheeshed steam at it.

The cow didn't move from that either. It only began to walk towards the patriot.

Reginald gaped and began to back away. "Come on Reginald!" called his driver, "It's only a cow!"

Reginald stammered. "Well-I-I-I don't want to-to hurt her."

Reginald didn't stop until fully off the bridge. His crew sighed and got off, they tried to move the cow, only to fail every time.

They had just given up. When, they heard a shrill whistle and the slow puffs of another engine. Emily appeared around the bend. She raised an eyebrow cheekily as she came to holt on the bridge over end of Reginald.

"What's this Reginald?" she asked, "I thought you were good with cows!"

"Oh shut it Emily," snapped Reginald, "The silly thing won't move an inch!"

"Can't it now?" Emily smiled, "What's the matter with it? Too fat?"

"You try then!" exclaimed Reginald.

"I will," replied Emily, sounding too confident for her own good.

She blasted her loud whistle, it echoed across the valley. She held it for a few seconds and then stopped. Breathing heavily watched the cow. But the cow still didn't move off the tracks, it only turned it's attention to the emerald engine, move it's legs across the ballast between both lines of the mainline and stopped. Now blocking both Emily and Reginald.

"What's this Emily?" asked Reginald, "I thought you were good with cows."

"Oh shut it Reginald," wheeshed Emily.

The cow then started mooing at Emily. Making both she and Reginald jump. The cow stared at Emily and the emerald engine began to reverse.

"I-I think if I go back to Maron," she said, and puffed away. Leaving Reginald with the beast.

Emily came back to Maron with her tourist train and came to a holt. Her driver then went to the stationmaster and explained the whole situation.

At first the stationmaster didn't look interested, like it wasn't a rare thing in a railway. But when the mention of what the cow looked like his face poked up from his desk.

"That must be Bluebell!" he said, "One of my friends is a farmer and said that one of his cows has been missing for two days!"

"How?" asked the driver.

"It must be because of her calf! She went to the market three days ago and she must feel lonely. The calve is here in town today, I'll call the farmer and tell him to bring the calf here."

"But how are we going to get the carth to its mother?" asked the fireman.

"The SM No.4 is here at Wellsworth yard today," replied the stationmaster, "I'll just make a phone call there and tell them to bring a cattle van with them to the bridge!"

Everything was arranged and the calf arrived at the station just at the same time as Whiff who was pulling a cattle van and a small break van. They loaded the small calve on board the cattle van and Whiff set off. Emily watched as Whiff puffed away.

Soon, Whiff got to the bridge and Bluebell was pleased to be with her calve again and the farmer led them back to the cattle wagon. Whiff took them back to the station, with Reginald, still fuming, following after them.

Whiff was sent into a siding in the yards. Whilst Reginald picked up more speed as he was allowed through first.

"Not a word," he whispered to Emily as he rushed past her.

"Keep it dark," agreed Emily.

But Whiff couldn't hold his tongue and told Edward as soon as he got back to Wellsworth. And by evening, most of the engines had heard the incident at the bridge between Maron and Cronk.

Reginald had to stay on Sodor for the night, and when coming into the sheds at Tidmouth, no engine could hold their tongue.

"Well, well, well," I sniggered, "Two big, wise engines afraid of one cow?"

"Me? Rubbish!" snorted Reginald, "We only stopped not to kill the beast. We don't know what it'll do."

"You literally reversed backwards," said I, as I backed into the shed.

"W-what?!" stammered Reginald, "No I did not! Those are lies!"

"Yeah, yeah, the coaches told us everything at Vicarstown!" I said, "Where's your excuse?"

"To not frighten it!" exclaimed Reginald, "Like I said, Emily and I went backwards to prevent her hurting herself against us. I think it succeeded unlike Molly."

"Pah," I wheeshed, steam coming out of all valves.

I knew Reginald was lying, and so did the press. Two days later, The Sodor Times released an article about farmers and cows damaging the railway. Luckily, this article was all against farmers and was mainly on the railway side. Rightfully so, meaning more people were sympathetic on us then the farmers.

In the end, the S.R.F and the North Western Railway - which was also died for those reasons - were relieved from any charges, and the farmer was given a fine for lack of concentration of looking after his stock.

This fine was given to the S.R.F. as well as ours, since we had no use to it at the time, and Molly did say she needed an overhaul, which I told The Fat Controller about, he immediately did what he thought was right, and used the fines and some money of his own on restoring Molly and she came out of the works a few months later.

Our region of British Railways didn't go over excessive changes, we kept to our controller. We still had our original paintwork, and we didn't get new rolling stock, well until 1953 that is.

But I shan't say anymore. My stories are done. I've told you what I was told to tell you all. Just like Edward, I'll let this story telling thing past on to another engine. Hopefully, he'll do a good job, because he wasn't even in half the stories he's going to tell you.

But I shouldn't spoil no more. I'm James, the Red Engine, and you'll be hearing about me, a lot more in the coming stories.


	22. Old Iron

~1952~

"Come on Ben!"

"Are you sure about this Bill? You know what happened last time we played a trick on him."

"That was ages ago!"

"Yeah. Three months ago."

"I say that was a record. Now I've already done it. Now we just wait and watch."

"Well no need to wait. He's coming now."

Both Bill and Ben looked over to see a blue engine back into the clay pits. With a blow from the whistle, he came to a stop in front of the train.

Bill crept up to him. "Hello Edward!" he called.

Edward smiled down at the little engine. "Hello Bill," he said, "Are these my trucks?"

"Oh no," scoffed Bill, "Those are your trucks over there."

Edward looked over to see a train of wet clay in tankers all in a train. The blue engine blinked.

"I wasn't told that," he said, "I was told to take wagons."

"Well there's been a change of plan when you were coming here," said Bill.

Edward sighed. "I'll check with the foreman," he said.

"What?!" exclaimed Bill, "But the foreman told me to tell you this information. He's busy at the moment."

Edward glances around the yard. "Then why is he over there then?"

Bill looked over to see the foreman eating his lunch quietly on a crate on the other side of the clay pits.

"Bother!" he said.

Edward chuckled. "Next time Bill," he replied.

"No wait! Ben set me up!"

"No I didn't, I said you shouldn't try to trick Edward!" exclaimed Ben as he came up alongside the two engines.

"Lier!"

"Wrong again!"

"Alright, that's enough you two," said Edward sternly, "Who ever got the idea was a silly one. I mean, seriously who thinks that they can fool me without checking the foreman is out of site?"

Bill blushed a bright red colour. Ben grinned widely.

"Right, I'll be off now, you two better behave whilst I'm off, trucks are at the harbour if you need some, but make sure some are left when I return, understood?"

"Yes Edward," replied the twins in unison.

"Good." And with a peep from his whistle, Edward rolled out of the clay pits with loud clanking sounds echoing around him.

Bill and Ben looked at each other.

"He's getting old he is," said Ben.

"Yeah," agreed Bill, "He won't last that long with all that clanking about."

*

Now this is indeed true. At this point Edward was getting old, his parts were worn and he had started to clank.

He had recently rescued Trevor the Traction Engine from being scrapped and was running his line very well. Apart from the clanking I do say so myself.

But soon enough, his worn parts were starting to wear the blue engine down This caused delays sometimes, and sometimes his passenger services usually connects to the mainline, mainly with James'. Much to the annoyance of the red engine.

One morning, James was waiting at Wellsworth. He waited and waited. Edward was suppose to arrive ages ago and he hadn't, his passengers were getting annoyed too.

They were just about to complain to James' crew when they heard a whistle. Edward came round the bend with his four coaches, looking way past time from the newer coaches and he came to a stop at the platform right next to James'.

"Late aga-in." James court himself from his voice break.

Edward laughed at that.

James wheeshed steam crossly. None of them spoke to each other, James too angry and Edward not wanting to start an argument. At last the whistle blew, the signal dropped and James fumed away.

James arrived at the big station just in a matter of seconds to confirm his train was running late. Henry chuckled when he saw the site of James panting after trying to make up for lost time.

"Dear, oh dear James," teased the green engine, "This is not like you be late? You might as well retire for you might be, getting old, so to speak."

James was too busy trying to catch his breath to reply and once he did Henry had already left the station, howling with laughter.

James left his coaches at the platform for Percy to collect and take them to the coach shed at one of the corners of the terminus. He puffed away to the sheds where he could turn on the turntable. He kept muttering about random things to himself and once he was steaming off the turntable in the opposite direction, he saw Thomas and Percy puff in, laughing with each other.

"And then, and then get this, get this!" laughed Thomas, "The truck said 'Beat it mate! You ain't apart of this conversation.' And responded, 'Sorry, I thought my name was mentioned and since your lives are meaningless, There's should only be one Thomas you should know.'"

Percy laughed and laughed. Then saw James and he smirked. "Oh no, someone looks a bit ticked off."

"Ah bugger," said Thomas who came to a stop right near James. "What's up with you now?"

"Edward! Edward, that what's up!"

Thomas raised an eyebrow at James and then looked at Percy who looked just as confused, then back again.

"Edward?" he stated.

"Yeah, Edward," sneered the red engine, "Edward is impossible! He clanks about like a lot of... of... of old iron! And he's sooo slow that he makes us wait. I was nearly delayed by him earlier and was mocked by Henry because of it!"

Thomas and Percy were cross with that, Edward had been a mentor to them since they had arrived and hearing James say insults about him whilst he wasn't there fumed them.

"Old iron?" said Thomas crossly, "Slow?"

"Why Edward can beat you in a race any day!" peeped Percy.

James sniggered at that remark. "Oh really?" he said, "I'll like to see him try!"

James then puffed away in a cloud of steam. Thomas and Percy were even more angered by what James.

"He just thinks that he could say that about Edward!" wheeshed Percy.

"Well," said Thomas innocently, "You did make out that Edward could beat him in a race sound very... childly I should say."

Percy harrumphed. "Well I think Edward can," he said, "Edward's got the right sense of commitment and belief that he'll James in the dust!"

"Percy please," sighed Thomas, "James and Edward are pretty much the same size. I doubt either one of them could beat the other. It'll probably be by luck for the winner!"

"Edward would still win!"

"Percy. You're acting like an actual child now."

Percy wheeshed at Thomas making the tank engine jump.

*

In the early morning, James found himself waking up with a fire burning brightly in his firebox. His fireman came under five minutes afterwards and got him ready.

James was sizzling nicely outside the sheds when his driver arrived. But he didn't look too well.

The red engine and his fireman looked at him with confused glances.

"Is everything alright Rich?" asked the fireman.

"Yeah, yeah," replied the driver, "Just a bit icky. It'll go away throughout the day."

"If you insist," replied the fireman.

But as the driver climbed into the cab, James' fireman looked up at the red engine. He looked a bit worried.

"I'll keep an eye on him whilst we work today," he said.

James' driver was getting pretty old by this point. He was planning to go into retirement in the next three years, but he was still exhausted and James' fireman was starting to learn about how to be a driver, so he still knew the basics on how to drive James.

James' driver pulled the lever once the fireman was in, and James set off to collect his timetable for the day.

*

"Trucks!"

"Yes James," said the fireman, "Our first train is trucks. Get over it."

"Why trucks!" complained James, "Why can't Henry take them! He loves to pull trucks!"

"Please James," sighed the driver, "My heads hurting so calm yourself down and can we have a nice quiet day. Alright?"

James thought for a second and then sighed grudgingly. "Fine, let's go."

He found the train of trucks in a siding. He buffered up, and pulled away towards the countryside.

*

The red engine rumbled down the line. His speed not increasing or decreasing. James rumbled past Edward's station. The blue engine wasn't there, probably working on his branch line or something. James remembered what Percy had said and sniffed.

"Edward beat me in a race," he huffed, "The most stupidest thing I've heard in ages."

James continued towards Gordon's hill. But as he reached the top, his driver felt even worse and he could barely stand.

The fireman managed to get the driver onto the seats in the cab, and drove the train the rest of the way to Maron. There he reversed James and his train into a siding.

"Shunted!" said James, "Why?"

"Rich isn't feeling well," said the fireman, as he uncoupled the red engine from the train. "I'm taking him into the station. I'll be back, don't worry."

James harrumphed, as his fireman helped his driver to the platform, where the stationmaster was waiting at the end.

Meanwhile, over a fence that shielded the yard from the town. Two boys had watched James come in and shunt the train.

They were both thirteen. Both were supposed to be in school, but you might've guessed, they weren't really "capable" to go there.

In 1950, a new invention was created by a few scientists and engineers, before that year, engines couldn't drive on their own. That year, they found out that an engine could control themselves too. With an all new lever, that could switch from crews from driving them, to the engine driving themselves. An engine could only release the regulator to move and the brakes to brake. But that's it. A driver has to release the injector, control the water and steam, and the rest of moving an engine. And this new invention doesn't even affect the effort of the fireman.

But here's a problem, by this time, only the newest steam locomotives would get this new tech, and only a few older engines would only get upgraded by it for rewards or overhauls, or by accidents.

None of the North Western engines had claimed to have this either. Simply none. This meant that the boys could easily go over to James and mess around as much as they want.

And so they dared to do so.

Running across the yard towards James, trying their hardest not to be noticed. They managed to climb into the red engine's cab with success of not being seen. James felt the thuds of the footsteps, but thought it was his fireman.

"Your feet are lighter than before fireman," he joked, "Lost weight?"

He then felt another pair of footsteps. "Good," he said, "Relief driver was at the station beforehand."

He then felt a hand on the regulator, and with a groan, James' wheels began to turn. "Alright," said the red engine, "Going off somewhere else, probably to leave those trucks and pull a passenger train at Vicarstown."

James shrugged it off that two strangers were on his footplate. He slowly began to pick up speed and head out of the yards.

Meanwhile, the fireman was just coming back to the yard when he heard the signalman shouting. He then looked to see two boys climb off a moving James, both running away from the yards.

"James!" yelled the fireman, he made a break for it. Running as fast as he can, but by then, James has all ready got onto the mainline and storming away. Loose and out of control.

The fireman came to a slow stop watching as his engine ran off down the line, completely oblivious to that he was a runaway.

The fireman quickly rushed back to the signal box. He ran up the steps and banged the door.

The signalmen opened it and the fireman walked in without a second's pause. "What just happened?" he demanded, "One minute I was arranging for James' driver to be sent home, then get a relief driver for shunting duties, but then, as I just finish that! James goes off with boys climbing down his cab!"

"I know that sounds bad," said the signalman.

"Bad. BAD!!" exclaimed the fireman, "An engine is on the loose down the mainline and we have no way of stopping him! Yeah, it's totally not bad!!"

"I've already halted traffic," replied the inspector calmly, "And I've ranged all the signalmen down the mainline that there's a runaway and to be cautious of what to do."

"...What happened?"

The signalman sighed and placed two of his fingers on his temple, right underneath his glasses. "Two boys sneaked through the yard without anybody realising it," started the signalman, "They climbed into your engine's cab and they must've fiddled with the controls. By the time I realised there was someone in the cab, James was already moving and the boys looked like they were going to be famous! I shouted at them and they made a run for it."

"Shouldn't they be in school?" asked the fireman.

"They should indeed," replied the signalman, "But they won't get into much trouble as breaking so many rules on a railway."

"Dear god," said the fireman, "Both of their futures are gone now."

"Yes," agreed the signalman, "But no time for that now. We've got an engine to catch, and fast. We're already past halfway on the mainline, if he gets into the mainland, control will probably order for the lift bridge to go up."

"And have James fall into it?"

"Yes."

The fireman's hand clenched into a ball. The telephone rang out, breaking the angered silence before it even started. The signalman grabbed it and put it to his ear.

"Hello?

Yes, that's correct.

Number Five has left the yards at Maron roughly four to five minutes ago.

Yes. His fireman is here with me now.

You want to do what?

Alright, I'll tell him to get ready, good luck sir."

The signalman plonked the telephone down and turned to the fireman who was ready with questions.

"That was Inspector Hutch," started the signalman, "He'll be doing the operation of stopping James."

"Alright," said the fireman, "What do I need to do?"

"Get a shunter's pole and some rope," explained the signalman, "They'll be here in a few minutes."

"But why need those things?"

"Doesn't matter," said the signalman, "Now go and find them. Tell the yard foreman it's urgent! Go!"

The fireman did, he found a shunter's pole and some rope in under three minutes and soon, Inspector Hutch arrived, onboard Edward.

The signalman gaped. Inspector Hutch leaked out of the cab, Edward didn't stop, only slowing down and the fireman had to run and grab Hutch's hand to climb onboard.

Hutch saw the rope and pole and grinned. "Good man," he said, "And we'll catch your engine!"

"How?" asked the fireman, "I was really expecting for an engine like Henry to do this operation."

"Oi!" said Edward's driver, "Are you mocking our engine?"

"Well, he hadn't really seen the best of days recently," said the fireman sweetly.

"This doesn't matter," said Inspector Hutch, "Edward was our only engine closer to James that can easily catch up. Henry is at Vicarstown so he can't help one bit. Edward is our best bet."

The inspector leaned out of the cab with his rope wrapped around his shoulder and the pole in a hand. "Come on number two!" he called, "Show the mainline engines what you can do!"

"Yes sir!" replied Edward and began to beat his wheels harder.

*

Meanwhile, James was running down the line. Unaware of what he had become and laughing loudly.

"What a lark! What a lark!" he yelled, "No more pulling trucks and heading straight to Vicarstown to collect a passenger service! What good fortune is that?"

But soon he began getting faster and faster. Rushing past Crosby and high speeds. "Um... driver? Can we slow down?" he called to the cab, thinking there was a relief in there.

"Excuse me! Relief driver?"

Still no answer, then a sinking feeling came into James. He felt nobody moving in his cab, he became faster and faster and he couldn't slow down.

"Driver! Driver this isn't funny anymore! DRIVER!!! WHAT SHOULD I DO?!! I CAN'T STOP!!! HELP! HELP!"

James thundering down the line, crying for help. Some men watched as James rushed under the bridge they were going over and the red engine disappeared, still yelling pleads of help.

The men just stared at each other with confused glances. Then they heard a shrill whistle coming from the same direction James came through. Edward came clanking through at his top speed, going after James.

"We're coming! We're coming!" he yelled and he rushed under the bridge and after the red engine himself.

Inspector Hutch continued to encourage Edward as the blue engine chased the red engine.

*

The Fat Controller stared down at his ringing phone. He didn't want to pick it up, but he had no choice. He knew what was happening on the mainline and knew that control wanted to speak to him about it.

He took a deep breath in, and picked up the telephone. "Sir Topham Hatt, controller of the North Western Region," he said.

"Topham, most of control have now heard that your number five has became a runaway now," replied a rough man.

"Yes Mr Harris," replied The Fat Controller, "I'm doing everything we can to prevent an accident on this region and we are trying to catch the engine down with another chasing after it."

"Yes, a Furness Railway K2 'Large Eagle'," said Mr Harris with a growl in his voice. "Mr Hatt, if this engine isn't caught at Vicarstown, you'll have no choice but to stop your engine who's chasing it and let control handle the situation."

"You mean lifting up the Vicarstown railway bridge?"

"Come now, Topham," sighed Mr Harris, "This engine is apart of a class that wasn't so successful and quite vintage nowadays. Like most of your engines are now. Seriously, the only good ones you have are your number four and number three."

"This isn't the way though," argued The Fat Controller, "I'm not letting one of my engines get dumped into the sea!"

"Come now Topham, you can always repair him once you get him out."

"No cranes can lift him up in our time, and we can't just simply repair him, salt water Mr Harris! Or have you forgotten that water can destroy an engine's firebox?"

"In our time, we'll probably have to wait a while, you'll be having to watch your number five get lifted out in 1995!"

"...Good day Mr Harris," said The Fat Controller with a snarl in his voice.

"Good day Mr Hatt," replied Mr Harris, going back into being formal. "And remember, if hat engine isn't stopped when he goes past Vicarstown. He is our problem to take care of."

The Fat Controller struck his phone down and groaned. He couldn't bare the thought of one his engines being done for, and James, the engine who'd worked in the front lines and for the Sodor Forces, he was at risk of being the possible first.

The telephone rang again. The Fat Controller gripped his fist tightly and then grabbed the phone again.

"What is it?" he demanded, making sure to not release his anger to the other person at the other end of the telephone line.

"Excuse me sir," said a voice, "But it's Mr Flintman, the Stationmaster at Killdane? I'm calling to catch you up with the news about James."

"Tell then."

"Well there is good news and bad news."

"Tell me in which way is the best," sighed The Fat Controller.

"Well," started Mr Flintman, "James and Edward have just gone by Killdane station, going over 60 miles per hour."

The Fat Controller tensed. "What's the good news then?"

"The good news is that Edward is only a few yards from catching James."

*

James wheels beat along in blurs, whilst Edward clanked behind. Edward catching up slowly but surely.

"So what's the plan?" asked James' fireman.

The inspector turned to the fireman with a look of shock and confusion. "You don't know?" he said.

"Well, no," shrugged the fireman, "I was only told to collect a pole and some rope."

"You've got to be kidding me," smirked Edward's fireman.

"Not now Sidney!" yelled Charlie who was looked out the cab window to look at how much further for Edward to get to James.

"Basically, do you like jumping out of cabs to get to another at really high speeds?" asked Inspector Hutch.

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah, you're doing that," replied the inspector, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What are you doing then?!" exclaimed the fireman.

"I'll," started Inspector Hutch, "I'll be trying to catch James with this rope."

"You want to catch a forty-six tone engine with some rope?"

"Not precisely," said the inspector, "I've got a whistle, so when the rope swings onto James' buffer, I'll blow the whistle, you jump from the cab, and you'll apply his breaks. Simple!"

"Easier said than done," mumbled the fireman moodily.

"Alright Hutch!" called Charlie, "We're nearing the runaway!"

And so they were. Edward's whistle blasted loudly so the red engine's attention wasn't the fact that he was out of control and to his rescuers.

"Edward!" he yelled, "Help me!"

Edward didn't respond. He was out of breath and concentrating too much to say a word. The engines were then neck and neck as Edward tried to keep to the pace of James. Grabbing the pole and rope, the inspector then climbed out of Edward's cab and began to climb across the hand bars on the blue engine's boiler.

Luckily, rope was put around Edward's boiler and a hole was made so to ease the inspector to lean towards James.

Both engines swayed and lurched, going at their top speeds. Passing Kellsthorpe Road and heading straight towards Vicarstown.

"Come on Hutch," murmured Charlie, "You'll have to hurry up soon."

Hutch went through the rope and was now tightening it. James watched in dear shock, as Edward continued to focus on pacing with James. Inspector Hutch then got the rope he was carrying, and made a knot so to form a hole.

"What are you supposed to be doing?!" exclaimed James, "The great knot challenge?!"

The inspector ignored James' remark. Knowing he was frightened to the bone. So was he. The inspector had never done anything like this before, standing on a clanking K2's footplate whilst going over sixty miles per hour to chase down an experimental Class 28. He then leaned over towards James with his arm stretching out towards James' closes buffer.

He swung the pole trying to get the noose rope on to the red engine's buffer. James and Edward could only watch as they swayed along next to each other. Suddenly, both of them hit a bend that went to right and the inspector lost his grip on the rope wrapped around Edward's boiler, almost falling in between the engine's blurring wheels. Luckily the rope around Inspector Hutch's waist tightly held him, making him escape his death. Edward gasp and James sworn he almost fainted. Both of them watched as Hutch, without getting back on to his own feet and in his dangerous position, he kept on carrying to try and get the rope over James' buffer.

Then, at his third attempt in that position. He swung the pole and the rope went and took hold of James' buffer. Hutch's eyes widen. "Got him!"

Tightening the hold on James and slowly getting off standing on Edward's smokebox and back on his footplate. With the end of the rope he held on, he made a knot of it, forming another hole, and he placed on his Edward's nearest buffer to James'. Not he only hold the shunter's pole whilst Edward and James ran side by side with being attached to one end of a rope on one of their buffers.

"What's this supposed to accomplish?!" exclaimed James.

"You'll see," winked the inspector and grabbing his whistle around his neck, he placed it on his lips and whistled, just as the two engines thundered into Henry's tunnel. But that was a mistake. The only light the fireman could rely on to get into James' cab was the fire dying out in his firebox.

So when Charlie applies Edward's brakes, Edward shot backwards and James almost toppled back too. Both engines almost left the rails because of this and the sound of groaning metal echoed through the tunnels as well yelps and curses.

Once the light shone on them again. Both engines were dangling dangerously sideways for Edward was still breaking and James still wasn't. Both their buffers were aching and the rope was getting weaker and weaker.

"Come on Mr Forman!" yelled Hutch to James' fireman. "Jump!"

The fireman took in a deep breath. "If I die," he started to Edward's crew.

"Just go!" yelled Sidney.

The fireman took a step back and jumped across. Grabbing hold of the bars at the front of James' tender. His legs swung through the air, he groaned and cried out in terror and quickly got one of his feet onto a step on James' tender. He eventually got the second onto it and quickly got inside James' cab and grabbed the lever, shutting his steam off and then applying his breaks.

James shot back with Edward after that, and he was back under control again as the two slowed to a standstill. The fireman sat down on James' cab floor, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

Charlie made sure that both the inspector and the fireman were fine whilst Sidney ran off the nearest signal. Soon, he came back down to see Inspector Hutch taking off the rope on Edward's boiler - he already took the rope off James and Edward's buffers - and Charlie and the fireman taking down both their engine's fire.

"So what's going to happen?" asked the inspector.

"Another engine is coming to arrive and help and take the engines the rest of the way to Vicarstown," he explained, he then paused. "Apparently he's new and coming straight out of the works to collect them. He won't be here for a few minutes."

"New... engine?" breathed Edward, still trying to catch his breath from chasing down James halfway on the mainline.

"Fat... Controller... never said anything... like that," gasped James, also trying to catch his breath.

The two waited and then they both heard a toot of a whistle. Both looked at each other and then back down the track to see a maroon tank engine, but he wasn't a normal tank engine. Instead, he had a massive crane arm on top of his boiler.

"What is that?!" yelled James.

"Hullo there!" called the crane engine, "My name's Harvey. Well you should really have seen that my name is... Harvey for my name... is on both of my water tanks."

"Pleasure to meet you Harvey," said Edward, both he and James had both caught their breath and were now just needed to be moved now. "Can you take us to Vicarstown please?"

"Oh of course!" smiled Harvey as he quickly buffered up to the back of Edward with his wooden blocks as buffers. James just stared at the weird engine and watch as he took Edward backwards to a set of points where both of them switched into James' line. Edward winced as groaning came from him.

"Oh sorry, did I hurt you?" asked Harvey, worries for his first impression.

"No, no, just a little stiff from chasing James over there," replied Edward, "I think he'll be the same too."

James was the same, but not as bad as Edward. So when both tender engines were coupled up, Harvey gave a mighty heave and started to push the two steam engines the rest of the way to Vicarstown.

Mr Harris was there, waiting impatiently on the platform with a few other inspectors. Harvey pushed in James and Edward both looking staring back at Mr Harris who had his fist clenched.

Then before he could say anything to Inspector Hutch as he climbed out of James' cab, The Fat Controller came into the station, he had immediately left the office after the call from Killdane's stationmaster and had hurried over. He was glad to see James and Edward safe and sound, he then turned to Mr Harris.

"Well then, guess we won't be needing you after all," he joked.

Mr Harris gritted his teeth. "How?" he growled, "How can an antique safe a failure."

"Firstly," said The Fat Controller, "That antique is just as old as me. And the failure is the only version of his class because it was proved that nothing affected these changes to the class, so it didn't really affect his performance at all, making him not a failure."

"Shut it Topham!" snapped Mr Harris, "This should've been under my control!"

"But it wasn't," started The Fat Controller, "I'm the manager of this region and I won't idle about if there is a runaway engine."

Mr Harris turned into James' paintwork. "You should've been more careful! Otherwise those boys wouldn't have sneak into one of your yards and fiddle with this engine!"

"You make it sound like he was there," huffed James.

"Nobody asked you to be in this conversation," lashed out Mr Harris.

"Sorry," said James sarcastically. Edward quickly shut James up when he heard him say it, knowing he was going to retort back to a higher up.

Mr Harris turned around. "James does have a point," said The Fat Controller, "And Maron isn't a busy yard. It isn't a junction to a branch line or a terminus like here or Tidmouth, it has only got a few sidings and just one tiny engine birth."

Mr Harris fumed even more. "Listen here Topham," he said, pointing a long, pale finger at him. "I know you are the one to blame for this! And I'll make sure that you'll be out of a job by the next fortnight."

He stormed out, followed by a few of the inspectors. The Fat Controller took a deep breath and sighed. He then turned to see Edward, James and Harvey all looking at him.

He smiled warmly. "A fine piece of work from all of you!" he said, he first looked at James.

"Fancy running away like that I am surprised!" he remarked, "First, wooden brake blocks, then tar tankers, and now running down the mainline! You are the one to get yourself into these mishaps!"

James blushed a deep shade of red. "S-Sorry Sir," he muttered,

"You'll be sent into a siding and be examined," continued the stout gentleman, "If nothing is damaged then you can rest and take your next train."

He then strode to the back ignoring Edward completely and headed to Harvey. "Hullo Harvey!" said The Fat Controller, "Remember me?"

"You're... you are Sir Topham Hatt? Sir?" said Harvey.

"Indeed!" chuckled The Fat Controller, "It's great to see you working in full order now, I'm looking forward to seeing you work."

He gave Harvey a wink and the crane engine beamed. And finally, The Fat Controller Wales backup to Edward.

"Well done Edward!" he said, "I've heard all about your warn parts and about you struggling. So I had my doubts that you could rescue James. But I was so wrong to think it. Even when you aren't in the best condition like most of the engines on my railway, you carried on to save a colleague in danger. I'm proud of you for that. For your reward you'll be sent to the works to have a major overhaul with having all your warm parts mended.

"Oh sir!" beamed Edward, "Thank you! It'll be lovely not to clank no more!"

The Fat Controller beamed.

*

The boys were both caught on the same day where a policeman was patrolling the area and spotted the two boys lurking around the streets of Maron and not at school.

The boys were taken in and were found to be the culprits of James' runaway. Both the police and their fathers punished them severely, they boys weren't even allowed to go trainspotting for their distrust in being allowed to be alone whilst out.

After being a runaway, James was inspected and found to only need to have an oiling in the joints. Inspector Hutch, James' fireman and Edward's crew were all rewarded for stopping James two days later at Vicarstown Hall and stood tall and proud as the major gave them their medals.

It was a week later when his old driver came back to work.

"Don't you go running off when I'm here, you've got that?" joked his driver when going back into the red engine's cab. James chuckled. He had missed his driver, but he had missed Edward more. It was an entire month before Edward was coming to return and the engines were told that he'll take his first train at Tidmouth the night before. Only Thomas, Henry and James could make it. All three of them waiting, James being the most impatient.

"Come on, where is he?" he said.

"They did say he had gone past the junction at Tidmouth a while ago," said Henry

"Yeah," agreed Thomas, "So, James."

The red engine looked at the tank engine.

"What are you going to say to Edward when he comes here?" James blinked and then sighed once realising what he meant.

"I'll say I'm sorry to him for calling him an 'old iron'," he replied.

"And?"

"That we are both the same speed, and he isn't slower than a snail."

"...And?"

James looked over at Thomas who had a cheeky grin plastered all over his face. The red engine scowled at him.

"Peep pip peeeep!"

All three engines looked over towards the exit to the yards, and saw a blue engine coming down the line.

"Is that... Edward?" glances Henry.

"It looks like Edward," said Thomas, "But he looks... taller?"

It was Edward. The blue engine came puffing into the yards and towards the three engines of different sizes and came to a gentle stop. No clanking was heard.

"E-Edward?" stammered Henry.

"Surprise!" laughed Edward.

"You look... different," said Thomas.

"Well, they did some slight adjustments when doing my overhaul," said Edward, "Taller frames, new cab, new splashers too and guess what?"

"What?" asked Henry.

"I've my very own automatic lever!" beamed Edward.

Thomas' eyes widen, Henry's jaw dropped. "Shouldn't I have one too?" he started to complain.

"Not now Henry," whispered Thomas, "Edward just got back from being in the works for a month and you want him to be welcomed with you complaining about something he was rewarded with?"

Henry grunted, and wisely subsided.

James smiled. "I'm sorry I called you old iron and that you're slow as a snail," he said.

Edward grinned. "That's alright James," he said, "No harm done."

James smiled back.

"Although, I never heard you say that I was slow as a snail," replied Edward.

"Wait what?" said James, he then glared over to Thomas who had a toothy grin on his face. James' boiler temperature shot up and his cheeks went red.

"THOMAS YOU-"

"ALL WHISTLE FOR EDWARD'S RETURN!!!" yelled Thomas. And both Thomas and Henry whistled loudly, laughing hard too. James groaned and blew his whistle, loudest of them all.

Unfortunately, The Fat Controller has just got out of his car at that time, and afterwards, thought he had gone deaf for weeks.

And what about Harvey in the aftermath and how he was treated, I'll have to savour that until next time...

*

Mr Harris walked in the cold, wet street, his jacket tucked around him and his hat blew in the wind. He walked along the river thames, it had been a few days since he had returned to London. It hadn't been a good welcome back and he was getting more and more desperate.

He was walking on the quietest part of the river, getting towards a bridge which went above the river. No one was there, except a man with black overalls and with a shiny coat, hiding his face and his hat showing not much of his hair, only small pieces of brunette was seen coming out of the man's hat.

The strange looking man looked over to Mr Harris and grinned broadly. He spoke in a thick, European accent.

"So you've finally decided to come to terms, ja?" he grinned, as he gets off the bridge's brick wall. Taking a few steps towards Mr Harris, who instantly took a step back.

"Well it bloody looks like it," replied Mr Harris.

"Good," smiled the strange man. "I needed someone close within the board of directors. One question though."

"And what is that?"

"Why... now?"

Mr Harris made his hand into a fist. "I hate being the laughing stock now," he said, "I want something more in this life."

The man in black's wicked grin widened. "Brilliant," he said, "I'll send some paperwork to your house later tomorrow."

"Shall I go now then?" asked Mr Harris.

"Yes," replied the strange man, turning around and heading back to where he once stood. "You are allowed to go now."

Mr Harris turned and walked solemnly away. Whilst the strange man just looked the other direction as the gentle sounds of the water splashed into the walls, he just stared up with the river. Without even thinking of what he plans to do next...


	23. Ep21: Thomas & Toby

~1951~

"It's not fair!" complained Thomas crossly.

"What isn't fair?" asked his driver.

"That this tram engine comes in and takes my work on some of my line!"

His driver chuckled. "Is someone jealous?" he quizzed teasingly.

Thomas looked insulted. "I am not jealous!" he said firmly, "But it just isn't fair though. That policeman had no right to make me a regular lawbreaker, because I'm not a regular lawbreaker, I'm not!"

It had been a few weeks after Thomas got in trouble with the police, Toby arriving and taking his place with going to the Anopha quarry on the little tramway.

Now Thomas, was please to have another set of buffers on his branch line, it had been a while since from when he last had help on the rails instead of the roads. But he wasn't please with how well Toby was actually doing. None of the trucks played tricks to him, the passengers enjoyed him dearly, and even The Fat Controller's children, Charles and Bridget, will come and see the tram engine hard at work. Even riding in his cab, making the tank engine fume his already burnt coal in his firebox.

Toby was a kind engine. But if something isn't done right he wouldn't be very happy with you. So, on one sunny day, Thomas was waiting shunting some trucks at the junction where his branch line connects to the mainline. He was ordered to shunt a train for Toby when he arrived, but Thomas had to be persuaded for a very long time and when he was doing it, Toby had already arrived with his coach, Henrietta.

The tram engine wasn't best pleased with this. "I thought my train was ready?" he said to Thomas as the tank engine banged the empty trucks into each other.

Thomas growled. "Sorry," said Thomas sarcastically, "This line is yours after all."

Toby sighed. "Well, I was told that my train would be ready when I would get here," he said, "I'm quite surprised Thomas. I thought you were the leader of this line and would work super hard on it-"

"I do!" exclaimed Thomas angrily, "You've only been working on this line for what? Four weeks! You make it sound like I never do anything on this line!"

"Well currently, you are," said Toby.

"And neither are you," retorted Thomas. Wheeshing steam he puffed away. Grumbling angrily to himself.

"You can finish your train," he said, "I'm done here."

And Thomas puffed away to find his coaches, leaving Toby being very annoyed.

Toby found the rest of his trucks, and waited until he was allowed to leave.

"I just don't understand him," grumbled Toby to Henrietta, "He's so moody all the time with me. He doesn't even allow me to talk when he's around!"

"He's probably just upset about losing some of his line," replied Henrietta calmly, "After all, he had gotten in trouble with the police and isn't allowed to go to the quarry anymore. It he just misses it."

Toby tried to believe it. But couldn't since Thomas had been like this ever since the tram engine had arrived. Soon, Toby was allowed to leave. Thomas, looking from the station, watch intently.

Later that night, none of the engines spoke to each other. Toby listening to Henrietta's advice tried to get into a conversation with the tank engine but Thomas refused to listen.

The next morning wasn't good either. Thomas had sneaked away before Toby fully awaked and headed to the coach shed.

When Thomas was being coupled up to Annie and Clarabel, the stationmaster came running up to them.

"Hello," said the driver, "What's the matter?"

"There's too many passengers," sniffed the stationmaster, "I'm afraid they won't fit in your two carriages."

"Then what shall we do?" asked Thomas, "I can't just leave some of my passengers here!"

The driver pondered for a second. Then looked over on the other side of the coach shed to see Henrietta, waiting for her engine to arrive.

"I think we might have an answer," smiled the driver and explained the plan.

Thomas didn't like it. "I won't take the tram engine's coach!" he said firmly.

"We have no choice Thomas," replied his driver.

"And what did you say earlier about not wanting to leave some of your passengers behind?" quizzed the fireman.

"I-I-Doesn't Toby need her for his run to the quarry with the workmen?" spluttered Thomas.

"I'm sure they can find a way to get the workmen there," reassured the driver, "Probably in some trucks and I think it's best that the passengers don't ride in trucks. Don't you too?"

Thomas thought for a second, and soon enough, Henrietta found herself being buffered up to the back of Clarabel.

"What's this?" she asked, "I demand to know what's happening?"

"Sorry dear," replied Clarabel, "But we need you on the first train of the day."

"W-Why?"

"Too many passengers to go in us dear," informed Annie.

"Yes! Too many passengers," agreed Clarabel.

Henrietta sighed. She had no choice in the matter anyways and was taken to the platform with Thomas and his coaches.

By then, Toby has trundled out of the shed and was taking on water. He looked over to see the carriage shed, empty.

"Henrietta?" he called.

No answer.

"HENRIETTA!!" called Toby again. Still no answer.

Toby was beginning to get worried. When he heard Thomas' whistle and watched as he pulled away with Annie, Clarabel and Henrietta at the back with the dairy wagon which Thomas takes every morning.

The tram engine was shocked. "THOMAS!!" he yelled. Thomas heard it, but didn't respond, he just kept going.

Toby huffed furiously. "He took my coach!" he exclaimed to his driver.

His driver was cross too and went to the stationmaster to understand what happened. He came back with why Thomas had taken Henrietta with him.

Toby understood, but was still cross. "How are we going to take the workmen to the quarry," he said.

"Well the stationmaster suggested we take those trucks over there," pointed his driver.

Toby followed his finger to see three empty open wagons, two vans behind full of supplies for the quarry and an oil tanker for fuel for the machines.

"They were meant to be taken up there next time we went today," said the driver, looking back at the tram engine. "But we can take them now, so we can have an easy light run to the quarry next time."

Toby still didn't like it the idea. Neither did the workmen when they found out too. But once told they completely understood. Toby set off down the tramline. The locals watched from the streets and houses as Toby trundled along the line with his workmen peeping out of the open wagons.

Toby only grumbled as he headed out of the town and through the fields, puffing over the crossing, going in the dip straight afterwards, and towards the quarry. He was just going around the corner where Thomas met the policeman, when Toby met the policeman himself.

The policeman blew his whistle, making his face go red and stopping the train whilst cycling up to them.

"What is it now," grumbled the driver, looking out of the cab to see the policeman get off his bike and stroll up to them.

"What's this?" he barked at the crew.

"Well it's a train sir," said the driver in a bit of a joke.

"Don't be funny!" snapped the policeman, "Why are people inside your trucks!"

"Because there was no other way, sir," replied Toby politely, "My coach was unavailable today and-"

"That isn't an excuse," interrupted the policeman rudely, he then began to write in his book. "I'm giving you no choice but to have this."

He ripped a piece of paper out of his notebook and shoved into his driver's hand. He then walked back to his bike and cycled away in a furious sate. Toby's driver looked down at the ticket and was fuming at it.

"Breaking the law by endangering civilians!" cried the driver, "We are certainly not doing that!"

He shoved the piece of paper into his pocket and stepped back into Toby's cab. The tram engine was cross too, he was looking forward to meeting Thomas when he had returned from his passenger train.

An hour later, Thomas was at his junction, he had just switched around and had no dairy van anymore. So he had no choice but to face Henrietta.

He buffered up to her, the guard's whistle blew and the green flag was waved, and Thomas pulled off. Henrietta stared at Thomas for a while. The tank engine found at quite uncomfortable, but said nothing. He wasn't going to say it, but Henrietta was looking very intimidating.

At last, Toby's coach spoke. "I know why you're jealous of Toby."

Thomas spluttered. "Ex-excuse me?"

"You know what I said," replied Henrietta.

The tank engine sighed. "And why do you care?"

"Because I'm his coach I need to know what's going on between you two." Thomas grumbled.

"Come on dear," said Henrietta, "You can tell me."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Toby is a nuisance!" he exclaimed, "He goes swanking around on my tramway. Taking the trucks who have done nothing to him! And worst of all, getting the attention like it's his branch line now!"

"Thought you would be jealous of that," replied Henrietta, "But what was it like when you first came to this line."

Thomas pondered. "...The same," he replied sheepishly. Henrietta chuckled.

"But The Fat Controller's grandchildren didn't come to see me when I first came to the line!" said Thomas quickly, "But they weren't around then. But his son didn't see me either when he was his children's age!"

Henrietta smiled warmly. "But didn't you get attention as well when you first came here?"

Thomas opened his mouth to reply, stopped himself, and closed it. Henrietta said no more for the rest of the trip.

Toby was shunting some trucks in the yards at the top station when Thomas puffed in.

Toby moved in on Thomas. Who was shunting Henrietta out of the way after that run they had. Toby pulled up alongside.

"My carriage," he began, "Isn't something that shouldn't just be taken by you."

"Sorry," replied Thomas, "But if I didn't, some of the passengers would've had to stay on the platform until I took my next passenger train back down to Knapford, or they would've had to go in trucks."

"You and your excuses," scoffed Toby.

"Pardon?" said Thomas.

"You've been doing this out of spite now," said Toby, "All because you're jealous of me or something!"

Thomas raises a brow as Toby continued.

"Now because of you and that trick! I'm now in trouble with that silly local policeman!"

"Local policeman?" said Thomas, "You got in trouble with the policeman in this local town?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Toby, "Thanks to you of course! Now, I'll be having my coach back thank you very much."

Thomas mumbles something under his breath, thanking Henrietta, and puffed away to collect his goods train.

Later that day, Toby trundled into the junction with Henrietta with taking a midday train from Ffarquhar, to Knapford.

But as he pulled into the station, he saw The Fat Controller, tapping his foot on the platform.

'Oh bother,' thought Toby, 'He's probably here for that police encounter this morning.'

As Toby came into the platform, he would find out that he was right. But instead of a stern and disappointed look on the stout gentleman's face, he gave a warm smile to the tram engine.

"Don't worry Toby," he said, knowing what Toby was thinking. "I know it isn't your fault that you got in trouble with the police. That policeman has always been causing trouble with us ever since he's arrived!"

"Thank you sir," replied Toby gratefully, "But what are you going to do?"

"I'm planning on meeting the policeman at the top station where he'll be also waiting for me there," informed The Fat Controller, "Don't worry Toby I'll get this all sorted out for you."

Toby smiled. Then his smile faded into a frown. "Thanks to Thomas, you have to go through all this effort to not get me in trouble with the police."

The Fat Controller smiled. "I've heard of you and Thomas' little feud," he said. "But let me say this to you Toby. If it wasn't for Thomas, you wouldn't be here today."

Toby raised a brow. "What do you mean sir?"

"Before I arranged for you, Henrietta and the rest of the rolling stock to come to this railway, Thomas got in trouble with the same policeman. I tried to argue for Thomas not to have side plates and cowcatchers be put on him so he could be allowed to go on the tramway. But it was no good, Thomas didn't like the idea of it. He even made the reference of himself looking like a tram engine with the boiler showing! That's where I got the idea, you could come and help Thomas on his branch line. You see if Thomas never made that reference of mentioning a tram. I would've never of thought of you to come to my railway."

Toby stayed silent and puffed away to go to the other end of Henrietta.

*

When Toby arrived back at Ffarquhar, he saw Thomas, with the very same policeman from earlier which he got into trouble with.

They were both arguing very loudly. Once Toby's passengers had all disembarked from Henrietta, Toby moved around to the front of the train and brought Henrietta and himself to the side of Thomas.

The Fat Controller then clambered down of Henrietta and towards the policeman, who was red in the face from his and Thomas' feud.

"Your tank engine here-"

"I won't be discussing what you have with my number one officer," interrupted The Fat Controller, holding up his hand to silence him. "I want to discuss why you've said that one of my engines have broken the law."

"Right," said the officer, "Well today I saw your tram engine take some workmen to the quarry on some trucks!"

"I've heard of that," replied The Fat Controller, "I'm just wondering why you've done that."

"It's endangerment to the civilians!" fumes the policeman, "He has rightfully done so with taking workmen in some trucks! Workmen that could've hurt local residents of the town of Ffarquhar with stones!"

The Fat Controller raised a brow in confusion. "Do you expect that the workman at the Anopha quarry act like children?" he asked.

"Well no but-"

"Then we don't have any laws broken," replied The Fat Controller.

The policeman's hands turned into balls of fists. "Listen Mr Hatt," he said, "One of locomotives has broken the law and it won't be pushed aside."

"I'm afraid Mr Herbs, that you are in the wrong here."

The policeman turned to see the head officer of Sodor Police stroll up to them with the yard foreman walked behind him.

"I've heard about your lawsuits here," said the head officer to the policeman. He then turned his head to The Fat Controller. "I do apologise for not coming to see the matter here myself Topham."

The Fat Controller bowed his head in respect. "That is fine officer," he said.

"You won't be pressed with any charges today," continued the head officer, he then turned to the policeman, who was looking a bit anxious.

"As for you," said the head officer, "Meet me at my office at four o' clock. Don't be late."

With that, he walked away with the yard foreman guiding him back to the station's car park.

The policeman, just stood there. Red in face from the embarrassment. He turned to look at the controller and his two, smug looking engines and walked away without saying anything.

The Fat Controller took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. Then turned to the two engines behind him with a stern eye.

"I've heard all about your little... quarrel," he said, Thomas and Toby looked at each other.

"If you cannot work with each other, I'll have one of you moved to Knapford sheds, permanently," threatened The Fat Controller, and with that, he walked away back to the station.

Thomas and Toby glances at each other.

"Sorry... I guess," replied Thomas awkwardly, "For being jealous, being rude, being cheeky and taking your coach without your permission."

"Thank you," smiled Toby, "I'm sorry about thinking you were a selfish idiot. I mean. I haven't seen anything that proves that your not."

"What about now?" smirked Thomas.

Toby blinked, then chuckled. "Alright then, I guess that you're not a selfish idiot then."

*

Thomas and Toby were awkward with each other for the rest of the week. But gave a friendly whistle to each other when passing by.

They often talked about their old jobs, whether it was working at harbours, being station pilots or working on the old railways in general.

"So let me get this straight, you took a failed engine all the way somewhere else, but then, the next day, your 'special attraction' got cancelled?"

"Yes," smiled Toby, "I was very disappointed by this."

"I could imagine," said Thomas. Then a ring of the bell was heard and the two engines looked out of the yards to see the policeman coming to a halt near the crossing.

Toby was about to pull a train of trucks back to the Ffarquhar quarry, so the crossing that came before exiting the yards would have the gates shut for cars and lorries not to get through and the policeman was right at the front of the gates, waiting impatiently for Toby to cross. He was given a second chance by the head officer, but was to kept a close eye on an if he would falsely arrest someone again.

Toby smiled as the policeman was currently distracted with writing something in his notebook on the pavement right where the crossing's gates were in front of him.

He winked at Thomas, grinning a cheeky smile. "Watch this," he said, and began to leave. Thomas watched curiously, and as Toby began to go over the level crossing, he let his bell ring as loudly as he can. Giving the policeman a fright with jumping in shock, knocking his bike - which was leaning on him - on to the road.

Thomas laughed and laughed, and unbeknownst to Toby, he had from that day forward, made a firm friend in Thomas.


	24. Ep22: Harvey

~1952~

It had been a few weeks after Edward's return to the railway after his lengthy overhaul, and the engines found that life was easier with the return of their friend.

With Edward's new look, he was much more better than what he previously had and performed much better.

But there was another engine that had also came to the railway. But he was completely new. His name, was Harvey.

Harvey was a crane engine who was odd looking for many of the engines. For he wasn't really based on a design of an engine. You see, Harvey was a crane engine, who built to custom needs by The Fat Controller wanting a movable crane engine to help with maintenance and all sorts with lifting loads in yards or moving Judy and Jerome to crash sites and help there too with his own crane arm atop his boiler.

But this has led to Harvey being different then the rest of the fleet. The engines all called him 'one-of-a-kind'. This made Harvey feel offended, and very sad.

When Edward came back he met up with Harvey, who he saw, was with Henry. And the green engine wasn't being particularly nice to the newcomer.

"You don't even look like an engine!" exclaimed Henry, "How can you be one if you cannot pull trains?"

"Well um... you see," started Harvey, "I can pull trains, I just pull trains that are needed for maintaining the mainline and others jobs like that sort."

Henry snorted and was about to reply, when Edward gave a peep of his whistle and came between the two engines.

"Henry I am ashamed of you!" he scolded, "I thought of you of all engines would not treat an engine like an improper one!"

Henry huffed and stormed away to collect his next train. Harvey sighed sadly.

"Don't worry Harvey," Edward comforted, "They'll get use to you soon."

Edward then pulled away to go to the depot. Harvey smiled back, but it was only a fake one.

Harvey still felt like an outsider as he rested in the sheds at Tidmouth that night. Gordon, James and Henry didn't dare speak or even try to look at the crane engine. Percy tried to start a conversation with him, but it was no good. Harvey felt too belittled to talk now.

Percy tried again the next morning too. But he failed again. In the end, he had to leave to shunt the big engines' trains.

Harvey was still in the yards an hour later, still looking glum. The Fat Controller came over to greet the crane engine.

"Hullo Harvey," he said.

"Hullo to you tae sirr," replied Harvey, putting on his fake smile.

"Listen, control on British Railways say that you aren't really... impressive," said The Fat Controller.

"So... I'm not allowed to work on your railway then?" gasped the crane engine.

"It really depends now," said The Fat Controller, "You see, a group of inspectors will be coming to see you with a little performance."

"So... a test run with my crane?"

"Yes," replied The Fat Controller, "You'll be lifting and loading crates about and showing how you put a truck back on to the rails. Understood?"

"Um... yes sirr," said Harvey, unsure of what this all meant for his future.

Meanwhile, Percy was shunting at the yards. James was watching him curiously.

"You looked concerned," he said finally, "What's up?"

"It's Harvey!" replied Percy, "He's all... quiet. Depressed."

"Eh, well I don't blame him," James replied innocently, "He's all, weird with his crane arm and such."

Percy scowled. "It's probably because of you three!" he accused, "You, Henry and Gordon are so... opinionated by appearances!"

"And?" scoffed James indignantly, "Not our problem."

Percy fumed. "You should be ashamed of yourselves!" he said.

"Oh please," said James, "Harvey is an engine that has never been seen before! He is different, whether it's good or not and besides, he'll probably won't be staying much longer anyways. With his arm attached, control are concerned on what The Fat Controller night use it for."

Percy was so furious that he couldn't say anything and puffed away to do his usual run to the quarry and back.

He picked up the empty trucks with a fierce bump.

"Oh oh oh oh!" yelled the trucks.

"Be quiet!" yelled Percy, he was coupled up and puffed away to the quarry.

He grumbled down the line. He was still cross with James that he wasn't really paying attention to handling the trucks properly. They were being biffed and bashed so much that by the time they got to the top station on Thomas' branch line, they were wanting to pay Percy out.

Toby was waiting there with a fully loaded stone train for Percy to take back. He watched the small engine shunt his train into a siding nearby.

"Hullo Percy!" he called, "What's the matter, did the big engines pulled your whistle cord again?"

"YES!!" Percy screamed. Toby jumped and Percy started to apologise repeatedly and explain the whole story with Harvey.

Whilst Percy and Toby were talking. One of the fully loaded trucks looked over to a grumbling, empty truck.

"Hey Brian!"

"...hey."

"I say what's the matter?" asked the empty truck, "You look like you've been biffed and bashed all on the way here by the green caterpillar!"

"Well good guess Stewie!"

"Oh my. How was it with him?"

"Oh it was terrible Stewie! My buffers are so sore that I don't even feel them!"

"My word! The green caterpillar is being a real prick today! Just like how I was back when I was with that 'predicting the future' tanker at the main yards."

~~~~

"I bet that there's gonna be an American sitcom that has this really stupid name, and will have many stupid and mean characters and one of them is a baby that talks and acts like you Stewie!"

"Hey, let me tell you something too. If you don't shut the hell up! I'll exterminate you with my bear buffers, you ugly, half ass, eating truck!"

~~~~~

"Stewie this is not the time to be doing these types of gags now."

"I know Brian, but now a good gag that'll get the green caterpillar a good run he'll never forget!"

"And what's that?"

"You know that bridge at Elsbridge?"

"Yeah why?"

"I'm going to make the green caterpillar a runaway and then derail us all Brian! Oh it's such a good a plan that I make myself so giddy with excitement!"

"Whatever you say Stewie, just don't and try and get yourself killed like Adam."

Percy stopped the trucks conversation with a sharp bang from behind.

"Toby!" he called, "Why is the train facing the wrong way!"

"Sorry Percy! But I can't do anything about it," replied the tram engine, "You'll have to push the trucks along!"

"Push. Push!"

"Like I said, I'm sorry Percy, but nothing will happen on the way back down the line."

Percy groaned and pulled the trucks out of the siding. The signal was already green, so Percy pushed the trucks out of the yard and headed back to Tidmouth.

"Wish me luck Brian!"

"Good luck."

And Percy and his train of trucks rushed around the corner and disappeared.

"He's gonna kill himself, but who am I to tell him that?"

"Shut up Brian! I swear you act like a dog!"

"You act like a creep!"

*

Percy puffed down the line. His trucks clattering in front of him this time.

"Pushing trucks, pushing trucks," he grumbled to himself.

That's when the truck gave the plan out to the other trucks. They all laughed in agreement.

"Okay, we'll do it by the next mile... urgh whatever, NOW!!"

"ON ON ON ON!" yelled the trucks, and bashing each other the shoved Percy forward, catching he and his crew in surprise.

"What are you doing?!" cried Percy, "Stop! STOP!!"

His driver, once realising what was happening, applied the brakes. But the trucks were too heavy.

They were soon coming towards the bridge, a corner laid right in front of the bridge, going too fast will lead you off the rails and on to the road instead.

That's what happened to the trucks, the guard jumped clear and the brake van lead the trucks down the embankment, and into the road. The last truck's coupling broke between him and Percy and the small engine sat dazed and surprised on top of the embankment, with his front wheels off the rails, with him facing the road.

The driver and guard began to inspect Percy, the road and the train, whilst the fireman went to the nearest signal box to phone for help.

When The Fat Controller heard the news he went straight to the sheds to get Harvey.

Harvey was very surprised to see him rush up to the crane engine. Even when he was preparing to head to his demonstration.

"Percy has had an accident on the Ffarquhar branch line," he boomed, "You must go and sort out the mess immediately!"

"Umm... but sirr," said Harvey, "What about the demonstration?"

"I've cancelled it," replied The Fat Controller quickly, "Now please go help and Percy!"

Harvey obliged and set off to the rescue.

When he got to the bridge, policemen were all on the road, stopping cars, buses and lorries from getting to the crash site. Trucks and a brake van laid on Harvey's left side of the bridge and Percy was in front of him, laying half derailed and looking very sorry for himself.

Harvey gave a toot from his whistle and came to a stop right in front of Percy.

"Right... um Percy, can you not move please?"

"Move? Move!! What do you think I'm not doing?"

"Errr.. you're trembling Percy," replied Harvey.

Percy tried hard not to shake, but he just kept on trembling. Harvey's hook was lowered down and chains were hooked around Percy's buffers and the hook.

"Okay Harvey," whispered his driver to the crane engine. "Now's your chance! Now pull!"

Harvey did, he tugged the small engine up. Percy gasped at the sudden movement from his front wheels laying on the ballast and grass, to being pulled into the air. People watched from nearby, trying to get as close as the policemen would let them.

Harvey moves his crane arm slightly to the right, Percy followed it. And when Percy's front wheels were perfectly above the rails, Harvey plonked the small engine down.

Percy began to breathe normally after that and he was taken back to Ffarquhar by his own to be examined by an inspector. Whilst Harvey began to clear the road with lifting the trucks up from the road and land them safely on the rails. After a few hours work, Harvey had completed the task at hand and was now taking the remaining trucks and brake van back to Ffarquhar.

Toby and Percy were there. Toby at the platform, whilst Percy being checked all over by his crew and an inspector.

"Thanks a lot Harvey!" peeped Percy, when seeing him come into the yards. "You really helped me in a sticky situation!"

Harvey blushed. "Well, er..." he stammered, "Th-thank you! Percy."

"You did a very good job indeed."

Both engines looked over to see The Fat Controller come over with strict looking men in tight suits following him from a range of cars from behind the station building.

The Fat Controller beamed at Harvey. "You did a splendid job with handling a crash site Harvey!" he exclaimed, "You really show how much of an asset you are to my railway! You should be very proud."

Harvey's cheeks went into a deeper red.

"With that said," continued The Fat Controller, "You must've figured out that I managed to get the inspectors who wanted to see you do your demonstration be sent to the crash site and I too was there. They have been having a discussion before coming here and they have decided for you to stay on the railway."

"Oh sirr!" cried Harvey, "I can't thank you anough sir! And to ya all as well... um sirrs."

The inspectors nodded and gave a brief smile. Then turned and walked back to the car park to leave. The Fat Controller looked back at Harvey and smiled widely, and he walked off, following the inspectors.

After a few days of signing papers and other things, Harvey was finally secured to work in the North Western region of British Railways. He works hard too, showing how much of a useful crane he is. Either lifting and loading crates about in yards or docks, or lifting derailed trucks back on to the rails.

The Fat Controller gave a scolding to the three big engines about how to treat others with respect and Gordon, James and Henry all went to apologise to Harvey the next time they all saw. Harvey happily accepted, and even though it was awkward at first, all four engines became good acquaintances. Gordon even became good friends with Harvey,

And now, Harvey the crane engine lives happily on Sodor. You would either see him shunting in the yards or doing smaller duties that Judy and Jerome aren't needed for, and he does it with great pride.


	25. Ep23: Fire-Engine

~1952~

Now first of all, this story was depicted in 1983. But it didn't happen in that year at all. It happened in the year of 1952.

The year Harvey joined the railway, the year Edward got his extensive and well-earned overhaul, and the year the London Midland Region of British Railways came and made a contract with the North Western Region. Of course, the regions were apart of the same railway, but because it was so big they were split into sections. North Western being the obvious smallest and this sheer tiniest, their were only eleven engines running on the railway.

Seven steam engines were officially owned by the North Western, which were of course Thomas, Edward, Henry, Gordon, James, Percy and Toby.

Another three were the electric engines, Ellie, Nelson and Ross.

And the twelfth was Eagle the Midland Engine, who was still being loaned by the private business company.

Because of this lack of engines, it would become more and more difficult for the engines to work. With lack of engines on the mainline and a branch line completely inoperative ever since the older engines were scrapped in the 1930s.

At that time The Fat Controller was running low on money, so he had no choice but to make another deal with the LMS, who agreed to run the Norramby branch line.

But now life was repeating itself, with more and more work. The Fat Controller had to get more engines, but didn't want to buy any at the time. So he decided that other engines from the other regions can come and take mainline trains as well.

Engines such as Regional would come and take passenger trains whilst other engines that were built for goods came and did what they built for and take them to the mainland.

Some engines were friendly, some were not, some were just plain average.

But there was one engine who worked along or lines just as much as Reginald. His name, was Peter.

Peter was a Stannier 8F, built to pull the heaviest of goods trains. His wheel configuration proved it and he would stroll away with any train granted. He was a calm engine, being a bit naive at times but a favourite of us engines.

He was reallocated to this part of the London Midland Region, because he was to collect Aluminium from the Sodor Aluminium Works at Peel Godred, and then take the entire heavy train to the mainland and beyond.

This meant he had to go along the Peel Godred branch. Which of course he didn't mind. He liked taking long journeys here to there, the runs stretch his wheels quite a lot.

One time he said to us, "I had never been able to get a good run back when I was running at Bradford. Now that I'm reallocated to do this job, my wheels have been so much better."

Because of these runs, Peter has a large stannier tender, these tenders are for long distances so they store much more coal and water. Peter looked very smart with it. Even Molly had a good lock at it, much to James' jealousy.

But no one was more jealous than the green engine himself...

Henry wasn't really a 'Black Five' he had different modifications. Being given the nickname, 'Green Five'. But to Henry's disadvantage, he had a fowler's tender instead of what most of his brothers and sisters had.

He found this very, very annoying and embarrassing whenever he sees one of his classmates.

But when seeing Peter with it so many times in the past year, Henry couldn't take it anymore, and would complain about it endlessly. Much to the other engines annoyance. And as well as Henry with the tenders, Gordon and James couldn't take it no more on one morning's day at the coal depot.

"It just isn't right to have me, one of William Stannier's best successes, to just have a puny, little tender," grumbled Henry.

"Henry," said James, "Do you ever want to shut up?"

Henry glared at the red engine. "Well James, I should have a right to not shut up. A tender is a mark of distinction."

"Well my tender is the same as your's Henry," said Gordon, "A Fowler's tender that I got after my overhaul. And I was one of Nigel Gresley's greatest successes, the first of many!"

"You and your Nigel Gresley," mumbled Henry, who rolled his eyes almost to the back of his smokebox.

"You know Henry, your technically aren't like your brothers and sisters just because of your tender," said James.

"And why's that?" demanded Henry.

"Well, you are classified as a Green Five," replied Gordon, "Meaning you have a different... body built I should say?"

Henry scoffed. "It doesn't matter if they just... change the name from black to green, I look the exact same... apart from my tender!"

Gordon and James groaned in unison.

"You know Henry," wheeshed James, "Just because of a colour, doesn't mean that-"

"You sure you want to finish that sentence?" quizzed Henry.

James stared. Blinking twice. "W-What do you mean?"

"Well, if I was red like yourself," said Henry, a smirk growing on his lips. "I would think I was a fire engine!"

James' fire flared in his firebox. "What? Like Mickey?"

"Well, you can put it like that," chuckled Henry and puffed away, feeling very proud of himself. Whilst leaving James wheeshing off steam and Gordon trying his hardest not to get the giggles.

*

It was a hot day this summer, the hottest it had been in a long time, and the engines were finding this difficult, sometimes if the heat gets too bad, sleepers would get set on fire, and could easily spread to each other if on a windy day.

Today was windy and as I've told you, hit as well. It made the journeys less difficult for the engines, but could easily be put into a bad mood if they were overworked.

It was lucky for the crew that Henry's roast for James had put him in a better mood. The green engine was to take a fast local to Vicarstown, and take another one back to the big station. The train had been already set by Percy, and now Henry was ready to set off.

The guard's whistle blew. Henry rolled out of the station with a sudden jerk. His driver and fireman were most surprised. "Woah Henry!" called the driver, "What was all that about?"

Henry didn't respond, he just puffed smugly away.

Henry was making good progress. But he was making good progress with how he braking and restarting to pull the trains in and out of the stations.

He would come in too quick and stop roughly. Then when leaving he would suddenly jerk the train forwards, Henry's crew didn't like this one bit.

"You better stop it Henry!" called the driver, "We are not pulling trucks and what do you think the passengers would do if they go to The Fat Controller?"

Henry snorted and ignored him completely.

They reached Vicarstown on time, Henry looked over to the other platform where the Norramby branch engines would come in on usually. A loaned tank engine was in charge of being station pilot and being the yard's shunter. She was from the London Midland Region as well as some of the others, but she was rude and brash. Not really getting along with the North Westerns.

Today, she was suppose to collect Henry's coaches, but she didn't come. It was almost time for Henry to leave the station so to clear the line, but still the engine didn't arrive.

Henry was getting impatient. "Come on, where is that annoying prat?" he demanded.

His driver was annoyed too, and went to the Stationmaster for questions. He returned with new orders.

"The loaned tank engine is 'apparently' busy in the yards," he said, "We need to take the coaches there ourselves."

Henry spluttered indignantly. "W-what?" he exclaimed, "I won't do no such thing!"

But he had to, and he complained to no end. He took the coaches out of the station and to the yards. He found the loaned tank engine shunting in the yards.

"Oi!" yelled Henry, as he puffed into the yards. "What is the meaning of this?"

The engine looked at Henry with a lazy eye.

"Whatcha talkin' about?" she asked.

"Don't play innocent," growled Henry, "You were supposed to collect my coaches from the platform and rearrange them so I can head back with them!"

The engine scoffed. "Like I said darlin'. Don't know what ya talkin' 'bout."

Henry glared. "Just take the coaches and turn them around! I have forty-five minutes until I get moving again and I need to refuel. Now do it!"

And Henry puffed away, leaving the coaches with the fuming, loaned tank engine.

Whilst at the water column though. Henry's driver was inspecting Henry all over.

"What's the matter?" asked Henry.

"I thought I heard some groaning noises when you left the station," replied the driver, "I'm just checking if it was you."

The driver looked and looked. But he could find nothing.

A while later, Henry was back at the station. Tender and tank filled up with coal and water. He waited at the platform for his coaches, and soon the loaned tank engine brought the train in. Banging them into Henry rudely.

"Ouch!" exclaimed the green engine, "Watch it!"

"Sorry," smirked the loaned engine, "Forgot where you were sitting."

Henry huffed crossly. It was a few minutes before the train left Vicarstown, an engine from the Norramby branch had a guaranteed-connection with Henry. Once passengers from the branch line clambered into the mainline coaches, Henry set off. Roughly as possible.

Henry stormed down the line. Wheels whirring into blurs, the green engine managed to run past the work's station at a good speed. Then the groaning returned. The driver was even more concerned now.

"It's definitely Henry," he said to the fireman, "We'll inspect Henry again once we get to Kellsthorpe Road."

But they would never get there. Cause when Henry rushed out of the tunnel at the work's station, the groaning became so loud that there was a loud snap.

The driver looked down to the sound and gasp. He grabbed the fireman and pulled him into the cab, both watched in shock as the tender rolled slowly away from them.

Henry's driver slammed the brakes on and the green engine came to a standstill a few yards to where his tender and the train had stopped, thanks to the guard.

Henry was in shock. He did feel funny earlier, but thought it would go away, not splitting him in half. He now felt very uncomfortable with how he was without his tender at the back of him.

His fireman quickly dampen down Henry's fire, and his driver went to talk to the guard.

"This is all that I need," grumbled Henry, "Now the others we'll laugh at me."

His driver came back and ask the fireman to go to the nearest signal box and phone for help. The fireman agreed and left, all Henry and his driver could do was wait.

A whistle was heard, and Henry looked up to see Peter roll up. Coming to a stop with a train of aluminium behind.

"Oh dear Henry," he said, "That doesn't look right."

"Yeah you can say that," grumbled Henry.

Peter sighed. "So how did this happen?" he asked.

"I don't know!" snapped Henry, "Why don't you go and-"

Henry stopped. He sniffed the air, his face turned from anger to concern. "Peter," he said, "Do you smell, smoke?"

Peter sniffed, he did smell the smoke. He then looked over to where Henry's tender and train were. He whistle in shock.

"There's fire underneath your tender!" he gasped.

"H-how?" asked Henry, surprised as well.

"I don't know if it's your tender!" replied Peter.

Henry went into full panic. "What should we do!" he asked, "My passengers are there!"

Peter thought for a second. "If we uncouple the train from you tender," he said, "I could pull the train away from it."

Henry pondered on the idea. "But my tender?" he asked.

"Your tender is right underneath it Henry," replied Peter, "The frames might not be able to hold on before they collapse and coal spills out. I'm sorry but your tender has to stay there until Mickey arrives!"

Peter was all ready uncoupled from his own train and began to puff slowly past the flames.

"You try and get away from the flames!" he called.

Henry obliged, and his driver slowly opened the regulator and Henry, using his remaining steam, puffed away from the fire and smoke.

Peter slowly went by the tender, and once he was clear, he rushed as quickly as possible to get to the other line. The passengers were worried, none of them knew what was happening with all the fire and smoke, and an LMS 8F good past their windows.

Peter switched tracks when he got to the nearest points, and quickly reversed back down Henry's line to get the passengers. He quickly arrived and coupled up. The guard had already uncoupled the train from Henry's tender and had gone up to Peter's driver.

"The tender's frames and groaning," he said, "You'd better hurry up, unless you want to see the flames spread!"

The driver thought not, and opening the regulator, Peter's wheels slowly turned as the train went back to the work's station, and away from the fire.

He arrived at the station with the passengers and coaches unscathed. But the passengers were confused and furious. Saying what a bad railway it was.

Peter just rolled away, he puffed off to pick up his goods and find Henry. As he went by the fierce flames, he heard the frames groaning. And as he back down on to his goods, the frames finally collapsed and coal spilled all over the fire, the flames roared even more, and Peter decided it was best to just take the train backwards. He pushed the train away, leaving Henry's tender to burn.

He found Henry, a mile down the line. He came to a stop next to the green engine, who felt very embarrassed from the whole ordeal.

"So who's the fire?" asked Henry.

"Far from better I'm afraid," replied Peter, "Your tender won't be recoupled to you anytime soon."

Henry groaned. Peter could only smile sympathetically. "Come on," he said, "I'll take you to the station."

Peter, for the final time, rolled over the points to over line, and coupled up to Henry. He then took the green engine back with him to Kellsthorpe Road.

Eagle the midland engine, was waiting in the yard when the two engines with a train came into the platform.

He called over to them. "So how bad is the fire?"

"It's gotten worse," replied Peter, "But nothing for the fire and rescue service that can't be handled."

Then they heard a whistle and a ring of a bell chiming in the distance. "Speaking of which," mumbled Henry, as Mickey thundered through the station with his usual fire service train, and puffed into the distance.

The fire was soon challenged by the water, coming out the hoses of the fire brigade, Mickey watched intently as the fire was being put down.

After a few minutes of trying to destroy it, the firemen soon became successful and there was no more uncontrollable flames dancing around Henry's tender. Well, what was left of it of course.

Because of the frames collapsing from underneath, coal had spilled out, making the entire tender be put into a dazzling mess. The tender was a burnt mess.

The track had also been melted and so for the rest of the day, the engines had use the up track to get through from strict orders from Mickey and his team.

The track would soon be repaired the next day. But Henry, was far from being repaired anytime soon.

He felt very embarrassed as he was shunted to the works by Mickey after his interview with how the fire happened.

In the end, the cause of the fire was it being that Henry's own fire set the sleepers on fire and that it easily spread to the tender by the harsh winds that were apart of the the hot weather that day.

The Fat Controller decided take full blame on it, and had Henry's crew taken off work to teach them a lesson, and when they would return would have to be given another lesson on how to treat fires properly when situations like this would happen.

Henry stayed in the works for two days without any news about what would happen. Soon, The Fat Controller arrived to see his number three. Henry perked up.

"I am sorry sir," started Henry, "I don't know what I was doing."

"Well obviously you didn't," said The Fat Controller sharply, "You've not only destroyed your tender, but damaged the track as well, making the mainline's pace go down tremendously."

Henry just looked down at his buffers. The Fat Controller sighed crossly. "There is a tender that I just brought from Crewe works," he continued, "Another engine doesn't need it anymore over there for god knows why! Once it's here and refurbished you can have it. But when returning to work you'll be put on maintenance trains understood?"

Henry sighed. "Yes sir."

The Fat Controller nodded and walked solemnly away.

Henry stayed inside the works for the next two days. He found it incredibly boring and would groan and moan to any engine, coach or even truck if they were even close to him.

At last, his new tender arrived and he was shocked to see what it was. There, being shunted in on a flatbed by Eagle, was a rusting, LMS Stannier tender, it was in a bad shape, but recognisable to be a Stannier tender anywhere.

"Is... is that for me?" questioned Henry.

"No," Eagle replied, "It'll be restored to be a new home for ducks and geese like near a pond."

Henry scowled. Eagle chuckled. "Of course it is!" he said, "The Fat Controller has no idea on what the future could bring to this region of British Railways so he's decided to give you a bigger tender this time! Just don't tell him you wanted this type of tender."

Henry beamed in delight.

When Henry the green engine got out of the works, he showed it off to all the engines, Gordon and James in particular.

James was about to lose his temper. But Gordon settled him down and reminded him on the green engine was going to do the next day...

"Keep up the good work Henry!" Gordon laughed, as rushed by Henry with the Wild Nor' Wester. Henry rolled his eyes.

"No wonder The Fat Controller gave you a bigger tender," joked James, as he trundled by. "After all, you are wasting all that steam, might as well try to get the biggest tender possible!"

Henry seethed, and before he could respond, James had already disappeared, laughing. Instead, Henry could only wheesh a cloud of steam.


	26. Ep:24 The Rookie

Mickey did an excellent job with taking out the fire from Henry's tender. But there was a problem, there was another fire on the railway when Henry's fire happened. Right near Tidmouth, an old brake van was set alight. Sadly, by the time Mickey arrived to the scene, the brake van was now ashes.

Mickey's team took in the remaining pieces of fire but it only took them a minute.

Mickey and the firemen sadly went back to the fire station which was near Wellsworth. Mickey couldn't help but feel the guilt swell in him.

The next morning, Mickey went to check on the news on what was to happen to the remaining pieces of the brake van. He watched as workmen took up the burnt wood and put them on a flatbed.

Gordon pulled up alongside the fire engine.

"I'm supposed to save lives," said Mickey, who still looked on at the scorched remains of the brake van. "Not let them be burnt to death."

Gordon sighed. "You know you can't always save lives Mickey," he said, "You should know that."

"But it was a life that was taken yesterday," said Mickey.

Gordon paused. "Was this... your first-"

"Yes," replied Mickey suddenly, "It was."

Gordon said nothing for a bit. He knew Mickey had to come over it eventually, after all, he was a strong engine. Stern, strict, but friendly all the same.

The brake van wasn't well known to the engines. Just a regular brake van, but he wasn't regular for what the trucks had seen.

Some twittered to each other about the whole situation. Whilst others stayed respectfully silent.

Saying his goodbyes to Gordon, Mickey left the scene to head back to the fire station.

Mickey trundled among the line, with his usual train of fire and rescue equipment behind. 'A fire engine should always be ready,' he would say to the engines whilst going around the island, looking and waiting for any danger.

Mickey went over the points and to the station. But as he arrived, he couldn't believe his eyes. There, standing on the other line, was a large blue tank engine. It looked quite different to any large tank engine he had seen before. A very different running board and overall looked very big. Bigger than an LMS Ivatt.

Mickey puffed right up next to the newcomer. The big tank engine grinned at the fire engine.

"Hello," came a voice. Mickey was even more stunned. This engine, was a female?

"My name is Belle," continued the new engine, "I'm your new partner!"

Mickey was aghast, he hadn't expected an engine to come here and claim to be his partner. Especially a female engine!

"Um... I think there has been a mistake," said Mickey, "I don't need a partner."

"Actually Mickey, you do."

Mickey looked down to see the chief walking up to him.

"I'm sorry Mickey," replied the chief, "But you can't handle these types of duties alone now. The increase of fires and rescue operations are too much for you to handle. In fact, you're not the only one to have a partner at this fire station."

"Pardon, sir?"

"The government has requested that a second engine should be held at the busier fire stations in the United Kingdom. This means us as well for we're the busiest on this island. British Railways are building and sending engines such as Belle to come and help you as well as your brothers."

The chief then looked up at Belle. "But I was expecting a male engine," he finished.

"Yeah," replied Belle, beginning to blush from embarrassment. "A few of us turned out to become female and well, they didn't want to build more engines for them to become female. So yeah, here I am."

"Yeah," said Mickey, "Here you are."

"Right," said the chief, turning to Mickey. "Belle hasn't been given any lessons on how to work as a fire engine. Control believe that the older, more influence engines, such as you Mickey should teach them instead. They get a better taste of what to expect."

Mickey eyes widen. "W-why would they do that?" he exclaimed.

The chief raised an eyebrow. "Did you just listen to what I've just said," he asked.

"Yes sir," replied Mickey.

"Good," said the chief, "Now you'll help Belle and tell her how to be a fire engine, and that's an order!"

"Yes sir," replied Mickey, as the chief began to walk back to his office in the main building.

*

Gordon was at the big station. He was thinking on what Mickey had told him and what he should do to make Mickey accept it. But he couldn't just place it in his head, Mickey seemed to be so strong, so intelligent, so brave. Yet this was his first time for a death to occur in his operations?

'Surely,' he thought, 'Surely he has had a death in one prior to that one?'

But Gordon couldn't place where Mickey's operations had a death. He was so lost in thought, he was snapped out of it with the stationmaster yelling his name.

Gordon blinked and looked down at the stationmaster.

"Pardon sir?" he said.

"A train is needed to be taken back here from Vicarstown," informed the stationmaster, "You're the only engine available."

"...What train?"

"It's a fast passenger service," groaned the signalman.

"Well... alright then," Gordon huffed. The stationmaster smiled and accused himself. Gordon set off to Vicarstown.

*

"Alright, with these water canons you can shoot the fire with it being within reach of 100 metres."

"Woah." grinned Belle, eagerly wanting to try the machine. "Could I have a try please?"

Mickey glanced over to the big tank engine and then he opened his lips. "No."

"Pardon?" Belle replied.

"No," said Mickey plainly, "You can have a go once you've seen in full action, but until you train further. I won't let you go on it."

Belle's jaw dropped. "B-But-"

"No but's," interrupted Mickey sternly, "I say when to go it and that's final."

Belle scowled. Mickey rolled his eyes at this.

Then a blast of sirens came from the main building. Both engines replaced their annoyed faces with confused ones. Then the chief came out onto the balcony.

"North Western's number four is off the line on the marshland bridge!" he yelled, "Mickey! Go to the scene immediately and take our newest recruit with you! She must see how it's done!"

"Yes sir!" replied Mickey, but he really didn't want to.

*

Mickey and Belle arrived at the scene, they found Gordon. Stuck on the bridge that went across a marshland.

"Why's a huge mainline engine on a branch line?" asked Belle, confused about why Gordon was on Edward's branch line.

"Because a lousy signalman didn't bother with changing the points after another engine wanted to get on to this branch line," responded Mickey.

The fire engine looked down to the marshland. It wasn't big, only a few yards wide, but the bridge was in need of being renovated. After all, the bridge was made of wood. Back when the Wellsworth Suddery Railway was being built.

Mickey inspected the cautions and took his notes into his head. "Alright," said Mickey, "It rained in these parts last night. So I think it's best for you to stay here off the bridge."

"Understood," replied Belle firmly, "But, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to check on Gordon," replied Mickey, as he slowly went onto the bridge to see Gordon.

He stopped right next to the derailed engine.

"Hey Gordon."

"Hullo Mickey," replied Gordon glumly.

"How did you get yourself into this situation ay?" asked Mickey.

"Well," said Gordon, "I was running down the line light engine to get to Vicarstown. Then I was diverted on Edward's branch line. I did try to stop, but by the time I did. My front wheels derail."

Gordon and Mickey both looked down to see Gordon's entire front bogie was completely and his first driving wheels were following them. Mickey hummed.

Then began to reverse. "I'll be back Gordon! Don't you worry!" He then pulled up alongside the big, blue tank engine.

"Gordon's derailment is worst than I first thought," said Mickey, "We'll need a bigger winch."

"How big?" asked Belle.

"Big as a crane," replied Mickey, and again began to reverse.

"Stay there!" he called, "I'm going to fetch a crane."

*

Mickey did return, with Judy and Jerome.

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "Jerome," he said, "I thought you were going to the works?"

"Works! Me?" laughed Jerome, "I don't need to go to the works!"

"Yes you do," scoffed Judy, "You need to be checked up on to see if you're still in-"

"I am still in proper working condition Judy," snapped Jerome, "You're just too overprotective. Now, let's get Gordon back on the rails!"

Gordon and Mickey watched as the cranes began to move their arms. One impatient, and the other not. Belle watched, bored out of her mind. At least now, she thought that she could now see what's happening.

Judy and Jerome were soon attached to lift Gordon up back on the rails.

"Ready Judy?" called Jerome.

"...Ready," replied Judy, skeptical.

Since Gordon's front half was the only thing derailed. Jerome was only needed for the task, after all, she was facing him.

She was then attached to Gordon's buffer beam, and then with a mighty heave. She began to pull the big engine off the ground. Gordon shook a bit as his wheels went into the air, but that would soon change. As when a creak came from Jerome's winch, everyone stopped. Then a snap came, and the next thing everyone knew, was Gordon falling back down to the ground, hitting the bridge with a thud, then another snap was heard, and Gordon fell again, with the wooden bridge breaking with Gordon falling into the muddy marshland.

Gordon was shaking with rage in his boiler. "YOU FOOLS!" he cried, "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HELP ME! NOT WORSEN THE BLOODY SITUATION!!"

Jerome chuckled nervously as Judy looked over at her sister, giving her the look of 'I told you so'.

Mickey just stood there, perplexed of what happened. Another failed rescue operation? He started to panic, remembering the brake van. Belle looked on in shock, and a tad bit of amusement with how Gordon was yelling whilst slowly sinking down to the bottom of the marsh.

Belle moved forward onto the bridge and looked steadily at the scene. "Gosh," she said, trying hard not to curl a smile on her lips. "That was unexpected."

"S-Sorry," said Jerome finally with sheepish look on her face.

Belle looked over to Mickey, he was panting like crazy, eyes like dots on his face.

"Mickey?" said Belle, "Mickey!"

Mickey shot back into focus. "We'll have to push him out!"

Judy, Jerome and Belle looked at Mickey, this time they were the one with perplex looks.

"Sorry dear?" said Judy.

"Belle will pull Gordon back up with the winch, and I'll push from the front of Gordon!" exclaimed the fire engine.

"A-are you sure Mick?" asked Belle, looking a bit concerned for her mentor.

"Please don't call me Mick!" replied Mickey sharply, "Now stop standing there, we've got an engine to put back onto the rails!"

Mickey shunted Judy and a broken Jerome out of the way with putting them on the same line as Belle. He returned to change over onto the same line as Gordon and Belle.

Gordon watched as Mickey steadily puffed up to him. Belle had already had the winch attaches to her and Gordon's tender. Even though she didn't know a thing about being a fire and rescue engine, she knew that this wasn't going to end well.

"Come now Mickey," she said, "If you push Gordon, you'll-"

"Are you trying to disobey an order?" asked Mickey, so intensely that Belle gulped.

"N-n-no," stammered the big, blue tank engine.

"Good," Mickey replied, "Now on my word, you'll pull, and I'll push."

Belle sighed.

"One, two, three!!"

Belle began to pull with all her might, whilst Mickey tried to shove Gordon. The big engine just watched, fuming at this. Mickey and Belle tried their best, but soon, it wouldn't be for long. Cause as Mickey gave a big push, Gordon shot backwards after Belle, Mickey followed.

The fire engine slid down the sloping track with Gordon, changed direction, and plunged into the mucky marsh that was turning into water. Gordon went back down too, dragging Belle back too, and hit Mickey's tender, which stopped the pair almost instantly.

Mickey gasp from having his face plunge in the water. He spat the dirty. "Bust my buffers!" he cried.

"O' the indignity," Gordon grumbled back.

"Mickey!" cried Belle, "Are you alright?"

"I've tried to get Gordon back onto the rails but manage to worsen the situation, twice! Of course I'm not okay!"

Gordon looked over to Mickey. "You're not?"

"Of course I'm not!" the fire engine cried out, "This the second rescue operation that I've failed on! In a row as well."

Belle raised an eyebrow. But Gordon understood, he immediately forgot to be cross. "So your not alright from the last rescue operation. Aren't you?"

Mickey tried to hold back, but he couldn't. "Y-Yes," he murmured, "I just tried to be a hero I'm suppose to be. But I lost a life yesterday. I shouldn't be cut out for this."

Belle looked stared at Mickey. Astonished at what she had just heard. After a minute of silence. She decided to speak.

"Even though you have lost a life in one of your operations," she started, "You have to accept that you can't save everyone."

Mickey looked up at Belle from within the brown water.

"When I was ordered to be sent to work at the Sodor Fire Rescue Centre, I was informed I'd be working with one of the best fire engines in the United Kingdom. I think they're right from the sound of your previous missions. And I got it, you had never had a human or a piece of metal die before! But you have to accept it, you can't be everywhere, and you can't always be the hero. Not all the time."

Mickey's eyes began to water.

"Don't hold back," said Gordon, "Just let go. Believe me, it works."

And for the first time he had ever arrived on the island. Mickey cried.

The men at the scene felt a bit awkward, but Gordon and Belle didn't. Not one bit.

After a few minutes of tears, Mickey gave a gruff smile.

"Cheers," he said, "Now how are we going to get two massive tender engines back onto the rails!"

"I might have an idea for that," replied Belle, "We could use the crane that isn't broken to lift whilst I use the winch to pull you all back on the rails!"

Gordon's eyes widened. "That sounds risky," he said.

"Better than my idea," said Mickey, looking a bit annoyed of himself that he didn't even think of the idea himself. "And is the only option. Otherwise we'll stay here until Jerome gets her winch fixed."

Gordon could only groan.

Belle's system was arranged. Men uncoupled Gordon from his tender, and Judy's cables were attached to the front of his tender, whilst Belle's winch was attached to the back. And with lifting the tender up and pulling it towards herself, Belle and Judy managed to successfully put Gordon's tender back onto the rails. Mickey and the men cheered, even Gordon was impressed.

Next was the big engine himself, and pulling and lifting with all their might. They got him back onto the rails. They quickly got Gordon coupled back up to his tender and moved Judy to let Edward go by. The blue engine looked at the scene curiously, so did the passengers on his train. Mickey blushed.

Soon, it was time for Mickey to be rescued. And with the same as Gordon, both successfully pulled Mickey back onto the rails.

Mickey felt relieved to feel solid ground. But because of the mucky water, his firebox was ruined, so was Gordon's. So Belle had to take two broken down engines to the works as well as a broken down crane being scolded by her sister.

They soon arrived and Belle shunted them into separate tracks. But before the blue tank engine left, Mickey spoke up.

"I believe I owe you an apology Belle," he said, "I was too harsh with you earlier. I guess there was too much on my mind."

"That's alright," Belle smiled, "We don't always feel the best somedays."

"I hope I can remain your mentor," continued Mickey, "If you would let me?"

Belle grinned. "It would be an honour."

"Good," replied Mickey, letting out a sigh of relief. "Make sure you don't get into too much trouble at the centre before I return!"

Belle laughed as she puffed away. "I'll try my hardest!"

*

It was a few weeks before Mickey returned, and throughout that time, Belle worked hard. She had to learn from scratch without Mickey being there. But that was alright because it had only been an hour of learning. Many firemen helped her with how Mickey did things, even Mickey's crew and the chief came by her to give some advice to her.

The engines warmed up to her courageous attitude. James has sworn to me that Molly and Belle became instant best friends after introducing them to each other.

Mickey returned to work three weeks later, followed by Gordon. Both were given a huge welcome back. The fire engine became his old self again and Belle's mentor. Belle had drastically improved in a week after he returned. Both engines are now great friends, and work hard with each other from then on.

And hopefully for always...


	27. Ep25: The Tale Of Two

**A/N: Credit goes to Rav_Productions for the story idea. **

**This is the longest story in a season I have ever written so be mindful that this took a long time.**

~1952~

The autumn on Sodor was beautiful that year. Trees' green leaves turned yellow and red, and the fields too lost their greenery to the yellow grass and brown mud.

But the engines didn't mind. They find this time of year the most relaxing with not much work to do before the Christmas season.

All the engines, except the Skarloey fleet. Rheneas, had been sent to the works for a second time throughout his working career, and now Skarloey was out of action for working too hard to even go on a full journey on the railway there and back!

So the newest engines, Sir Handel and Peter Sam were the only engines to work on the railway. By this time, Peter Sam had accidentally left the refreshment lady behind, and Sir Handel had gotten in trouble with pulling the coaches, and derailing on purpose.

The man in charge with the railway, was The Thin Controller. Even though a man named Sir Handel Brown owned the railway, he was too busy, and The Thin Controller was employed to be in charge of running the railway for him.

After Sir Handel - the engine that was named after Sir Handel Brown - had derailed himself, The Thin Controller had ordered him to stay in the shed, but when the work for Peter Sam was getting too much. He let Sir Handel out again. But he left Peter Sam with coaches, and Sir Handel with trucks.

Sir Handel hated it. He tried not to let out his anger, but the trucks didn't like Sir Handel, and would play their tricks on him whenever they felt like it, and that was a lot.

Sir Handel usually went to the slate quarry. Where he would shunt the empty trucks to the incline and the loaded ones will be sent down.

Today however, Sir Handel was fuming for the trucks were making him crosser and crosser.

The loaded trucks at the top of the incline had been at the top all night and were agitated by it. So they decided to pull it all on the number three. With singing.

"Sir Handy the handle wants to pull some coaches! But because he's pompous little git! He stuck with us and that's a good thing! Because you know... Sir Handel would drive the coaches mad!"

They laughed and laughed. Sir Handel fumed. "Be quiet!" he ordered. But the trucks only began again. It was too much for Sir Handel, he banged them so crossly that he was paying attention to where he was going. He smashed the trucks into a pair of old buffers which did nothing to stop them going into the cliff face.

Then there was a loud rumble, Sir Handel gulped, as rocks began to fall.

"ROCK FALL!"

Workmen ran for dear life from the cliff edge as Sir Handel's driver opened the regulator, and the little blue engine shot off.

Luckily, no one was seriously hurt from the incident. But the trucks were aching in pain from the rocks that had hit them.

"You've done it now lad," said the driver. Sir Handel didn't say anything, he was thinking too much about what The Thin Controller would say to him.

It wasn't pleasant that evening. The Thin Controller gave stern words to Sir Handel.

"You'll remains in the shed once more!" he said, "And when you get out, you'll be very lucky it would be to helping Peter Sam with the workload. Otherwise..."

He trailed off, and Sir Handel knew what he meant. He just looked down to his buffers. The Thin Controller didn't need to say no more with the look on the little blue engine's face. He just strolled away.

"First the coaches, then detailing on purpose, and now this!" said Peter Sam, "What are you going to do Sir Handel?"

"Probably tot in this shed," replied Sir Handel grimly, "I just don't seem to get that man. All I want to do is work with the trains I had like I did back at home, but he just shoots me down!"

"Well, this isn't our old railway Sir Handel," said Peter Sam, "We just got to accept what's here!"

Sir Handel groaned. "It's just not the same."

"Well it would've been almost the same to me if you were crushed under those rocks," Peter Sam huffed.

With that sentence, Sir Handel's face went pale. His eyes widen and he looked like he was about so shiver. Skarloey, who had seen the hole ordeal looked over to Sir Handel concerned. "Are you alright Sir Handel?" he asked.

"Yes!" exclaimed the little blue engine, "Perfectly fine!"

"Well you're not fine," replied Peter Sam, "I do know that you find MightyMac's fate disturbing, but we all did."

"Who's MightyMac?" asked Skarloey, "I've heard about that engine a couple of times. Him being apart of the Mid-Sodor Railway with you two?"

"It's actually them," replied Sir Handel.

Skarloey looked over to Sir Handel. Perplexed of what he just said. He then looked over to Peter Sam, who looked like he was agreeing with him.

"What, you're saying two... engines can share the same body?" asked Skarloey.

"Yes," replied Peter Sam, "Have you ever heard of the FR Double Fairlie Class?"

Skarloey pondered for a second. Then it dawned on him. "You mean the narrow gauge class engines that had two boilers between a cab in the middle?"

"Disturbing I know," grunted Sir Handel, "And it gets kind've worst when you know the story about those fools."

Peter Sam glanced over at his old friend with a scowl, then looked back at the old engine. "Would you like me to tell you the story?" he asked, "I'm warning you it won't be pleasant."

"I would've heard of worst stories," chuckled Skarloey bravely.

Peter Sam smiled warmly, and began the tale. The tale of two...

*

~1944~

It was a few months before our old railway would get shut down. Back then there were only a few of us.

There was Sir Handel and I back then, and we were originally called Falcon and Stuart. Then there were the engines that work mainly on goods duties or in the mines, they were called Atlas, and Smudger. Then there was the oldest and wisest of them all. We use to call him granpuff, but most others would call him Duke.

All of us were splendid with our jobs. Falcon always handled passengers. And even though he did mostly did the same, Duke and I would do mix traffic work along the line.

Atlas was kind and daring. He and I got on splendidly, and Smudger was a bit arrogant and stubborn, but he got the job done easily. He and Duke, even though they had their differences, both loved to have what Smudger called it, 'banter' with each other.

Everything was fine, until the winter season arrived. Work was difficult, more passengers were wanting to get to their loved ones, and more goods needed to either get to their destinations. Either to one side or another.

One night, Falcon came home looking exhausted and annoyed.

"Oh dear," smirked Smudger, "Someone ain't happy."

"Shut it Smudger," grumbled Falcon, "I'm not in the mood."

Smudger only chuckled at that.

"You young scallywags," said Duke, "All this teasing, it will never suit his grace!"

Sir Handel and Smudger both groaned in unison. "Oh come on Dukey," Smudger mumbled, "We've heard you say this a hundred times! Just give it a rest!"

Duke huffed crossly. "Stop calling me Dukey!" he scolded, "You know it won't-"

"SUIT HIS GRACE!" screamed Falcon.

"That's enough from all of you!"

All the engines turned to see the manager in his tight suit stand in front of the sheds with myself coming into one of the births next to Falcon.

"I hope you won't be releasing your anger on each other," he said sternly, and Falcon and Smudger looked down to their buffers.

"Anyways," continued the manager, "I have done good news, I know you've been working really hard, so I've brought a powerful engine that can help with the extra workload."

"Powerful sir?" I repeated.

"Yes, they are very powerful," the manager replied.

"They?" said Smudger.

"Yes... they." And the manager left, with the engines glancing at each other confused.

"They?" said Smudger, "Shouldn't it be he or she?"

"Maybe it's a she," I suggested, "So he's keeping it a secret for a surprise."

"I sure would like that," sniggered Falcon. He was met with a wheesh if steam by Duke.

A few days later, Falcon was at the junction to take the engine to the nearest depot. Both were arrived on a flatbed with Jerome which were brought in by James the red engine.

Whilst Jerome was unloading the engine. James came next to Falcon.

"Be careful with this engine," he said to him, "They're not really mindful of others."

"You aren't," teased Falcon and James wheeshed steam offended.

Falcon looked over to where Jerome was putting the engine onto the rails and saw the look of it. His jaw dropped and his eyes widen.

The engine was completely abnormal. With two boilers on each end of the cab, and two separate tanks on each side of them with wheels and pistons on each of them too.

One of them looked over to see Falcon. "Hello!" he said, "My names Mighty."

"And I'm Mac!" shouted another voice.

"Oh don't you start you don't even know who you're talking too," scowled Mighty.

"Well if I was switched around then I would," sniffed Mac.

Mighty rolled his eyes, Falcon looked over to Adam who was holding a big smirk on his face. "Good luck," he said, as he began to leave.

Falcon soon buffered up to the newcomer or newcomers.

But as he started his trip, Mighty started to talk. "This yard looks wonderful doesn't it?"

Mac scoffed from within the background. "Wonderful? You haven't seen anything yet! You'll probably wouldn't cause you're facing another engine in the face!"

"Why don't you just shut up Mac!" growled Mighty, "You just don't like it when I talk!"

"Yes," Mac replied, "I don't!"

Falcon sighed as the bickering continued. Falcon was glad when the trip ended, he left as quickly as possible, both Mighty and Mac didn't even notice.

*

The engine soon met us back at the sheds. Both together were called MightyMac, and coming from Falcon they were most argumentative engines he had ever seen.

And he wasn't lying. MightyMac were nice engines, but practically hated each other. They would always bicker and cause havoc for each other.

"No! I'll go in front!" Mac would yell, "I never get to go in front."

"Does it even matter? yelled back Mighty, "We don't even need to turn around!"

We were soon getting tired again, but not by the work this time.

"Those two couldn't stop bickering on who should sleep at the front last night!" complained Smudger, "I'm sick of this! They should never be allowed to just argue twenty-four, seven when engines are trying to get their beauty sleep!"

"Trust me Smudger," said Falcon, "I've seen you sleep, and it isn't a pretty site."

Smudger looked like he was going to retort, when I quickly stepped in. "I have to admit Smudger, you've got a good point. I have never seen any engines-I mean engine, argue so much!"

"Indeed," said Falcon, "Someone should speak to them about what they're causing."

"Oh please, last time spoke to an engine that wasn't behaving was sent away," Smudger scoffed, "Judging by MightyMac... or Mighty and Mac, it would be impossible for them to listen to us!"

"Well then, I'll give it a shot then," I said.

Falcon laughed so hard he looked like his boiler would burst. "Good one Stuart!" he said, after catching his breath.

After a moment's pause of him calming his breathing, realisation dawned on him. "You're... you're serious?"

"Well, it's worth a shot," I replied. Falcon was going to say else from how his mouth opened, but Smudger stopped him.

"Come now Falcy, Dukey always does the talkin', let's see if Stewy can do it!"

Falcon hesitated, but only puffed away.

*

I found MightyMac working in the yards later that day after lunch. They were talking with each other, this was one of the times MightyMac had been seen not arguing.

I puffed up to them with a peep coming through my whistle. "Hullo MightyMac!" I called, "How are you?"

"Very well thank you," replied Mighty and Mac in unison.

"Wait what?" said Mac.

"I was suppose to say it," said Mighty.

"No you weren't!"

"He said my name first Mac, meaning I go first."

"We never made that rule!"

"Well I just did."

Stuart blew his whistle again. Causing the engine to stop arguing.

"Please stop arguing you two," he said.

MightyMac stayed silent, well only a second.

"He started it!" cried Mac.

Mighty spluttered. "Me? You were increasing the levels!"

"What does that even-"

"STOP!!"

Both fell silent again.

"This what I wanted to talk about," I sighed, "You might not notice... but... you're arguing with each other too much."

Both Mighty and Mac looked at me, perplexed.

"Us! Arguing too much?!" snickered Mac, "Oh dear Stuart, looks like you got too much slack!"

I stared at them, I was a bit perplexed by Mac's reaction myself. "Please Mac, Mighty, you need to listen to me. The others and I don't feel too comfortable with you bickering! This needs to stop!"

MightyMac looked as far as they could see each other.

Mighty sighed. "All right Stuart," he said, "We'll try our best."

Mac also agreed and I was very pleased that I managed to keep them calm.

And indeed, they didn't argue like they did before. There were only a few arguments, but we weren't expecting it to fully stop, well Smudger did.

But in that time, MightyMac were getting more agitated with each other. They were trying to not argue, but that line was thinning every second.

A few weeks later, and the manager came to the sheds. He greeted us all, and told us the usual jobs, then he turned to MightyMac.

"MightyMac," he said, "You two will be going to one of the mines at Granite quarry. You'll be working there for the next few days."

"Yes sir!" peeped MightyMac in unison.

"Be careful up there," Duke warned, "The cliff edges aren't that safe."

"Oh please," scoffed Mac, "We'll be fine. Now come on Mighty! Time to go!"

Mighty sighed and the double engine then left the sheds. Duke would soon tell me that he could feel that something dreadful was going to happen when they left, that would seal their fate...

*

MightyMac arrived at the quarry. They found the place packed with trucks, empty or full.

"Well, it's best if we start the work now," said Mac. But as he began to lead on, Mighty refused to move.

"What is it Mighty?" Mac asked, "We need to start the work?"

Mighty sighed. "We need to wait for the foreman to arrive and tell us what needs to be done," he explained, "Then, we can start."

"We don't need the foreman!" groaned Mac, "We can handle it just fine!"

"No we won't," said Mighty, still unconvinced.

"Oh yes we can!" said Mac, "Now come on! We've got work to be done!"

Mighty grumbled, but allowed Mac to take the lead. His temper was thinner than Mac's, and he was going to loose it soon.

MightyMac began shunting the empty trucks into the sidings. Mac leading the way. They soon finished and then began arranging a train of wagons fully loaded with coal.

They were doing well. Mac was pleased and even Mighty was impressed. But as they shunted a brake van onto one of the trains, the foreman came running up to them.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked.

Mighty, being uncoupled from the brake van, stared at the foreman. "Pardon?"

"These trucks aren't supposed to go!" said the foreman, "they have to stay here! They're not needed to leave until tomorrow. Those empty trucks need to leave though."

Mighty gasped and Mac gulped.

The foreman sighed. "Just be off, you've delayed us now thanks to you."

It was too much for Mighty now. His line snapped, and his anger boiled in his firebox. The foreman left and Mighty shiver backwards with Mac zooming all the way to the other side of the yard, and was smacked straight into the buffers.

"Ouch!" he yelled, "What was that for?!"

"For being a stupid engine!" shouted Mighty.

"Me? Stupid! You're the one that's stupid!" Mac cried, and he shoved backwards. Mighty braked them both to a stop.

"You fool! You're not strong enough to compete with me!"

"We're the same engine you twit!" replied Mac, screaming like a little girl.

"We're not the same!" growled Mighty and jerked Mac back into the buffers, harder this time. Unbeknownst to them. The rocks above were beginning to get unstable.

"We are the same!" cried Mac, as he begun to reverse. "You just never see it that way! Always rejecting me!"

He pushed Mighty harder.

"You'll have never understand!"

Mighty banged into some trucks, all of them coming off the rails. Mighty almost following them. Workmen has stopped to watch the fight, all looking at Mighty after the collision, staying silent. Humiliated, Mighty's pupils began dots in his eyes. He gritted his teeth harder, his brow furrowed so much that he could've stayed that way.

"WE."

He shoved Mac backwards.

"ARE NOT."

Picking up speed, Mac trying to slow down.

"THE SAME."

Mac hit the buffers. They all but collapsed from the third strike, Mac completely derailed as smashing straight into the cliff face.

"ENGINE!!!"

There was a rumble. Workmen looked up. Followed by MightyMac. A few small rocks fell down to the ground, some hitting Mac's boiler. Then, it happened.

"Avalanche!" shouted one of the workmen. They all began to run. Mighty tried to move, but realised he couldn't. He had derailed Mac, meaning he had also derailed himself!

Mighty tried to look at the cliff edge frantically. But he couldn't see anything. A large rock had his dome, putting a nice dent into. Mighty gasp from the shock of pain.

Mac then let out a cry from himself, for he had been hit by a large rock himself. This happened to slap him on his left tank.

As more rocks came down, a large one began to destroy the cliff edge, and as the ground underneath it shifted, it moved. And as it moved it fell down to the other level of ground.

Mac saw it coming, and gulped as it began to fall. Mighty then heard the voice of his other half.

"...Mighty..."

The smashing sound between the boulder and the boiler, echoed all across the valley. There was silence after that. Mighty shivered.

"M-Mac?"

No response.

"MAC!"

Mighty still had no response, but quiet sizzling of steam, pouring out of Mac's dead body...

*

The cleanup took a while But after two days, MightyMac were freed from the stones. Smudger took the engine back to the sheds. Where many people in suits came and examined the now half-alive engine.

We were all shocked when we heard from the manager that Mac was killed by a large boulder hitting his smokebox. Crushing him and killing him instantly.

We mourned him. But none other mourned him as much as Mighty. MightyMac were sent into the repair shed and stayed there for a few days. Then Mighty came back out a fortnight after the accident, and only Mighty.

MightyMac's class could work solo, so they decided to separate MightyMac, so Mighty could still work, and Mac could be disposed off.

Mac's corpse was taken away to the other end of the line, where James took Mac away. Apparently he went to a research facility not to far away from where that end of the line was. Mighty did the task, and once he started to work again. He was never the same.

He was quiet, never speaking to any of us. Never acknowledging us. He only did when he had to, and just did his work without any complaints.

That part of the quarry had to close, and soon another part did too. For workmen quit for thinking it was too unsafe there. Goods traffic still remained the same, and only a small percentage of passengers stopped coming to the railway. But not too much to effect our business.

And only after a month after the accident. Mighty was asked to take a goods train to King Orry's Bridge. He obliged and went there non-stop, until he came to the old station, where the main engine sheds were.

Mighty had to stop there, so Falcon could come into the station with his usual midday passenger service. Smudger, who was in the sheds, eyed him up.

"How are ya doin' Mighty?" he asked.

Mighty mumbled a reply that Smudger couldn't understand. "Mighty?"

Mighty did reply this time. He just remained silent. Suddenly, a whistle was heard, and Falcon came rolling over the points and into the station platform.

"Hey Mighty, hey Smudger," Falcon said informally.

Smudged greeted him back. They both started a conversation. Mighty looked depressed, he looked back and up the mountains. The line continued onwards into the hills. Which curves around the steepest parts, it can be a lovely view for us as we could look down at the station and sheds.

But Mighty thought of it different from that moment. For he had an idea. When the signal turned green, Mighty set off. Without even saying goodbye to either Falcon or Smudger.

The two other engines frowned and glance at each other.

Mighty puffed up the hill, he started to bounce roughly, his trucks groaning and moaning with their buffers banged into each other.

"Steady there boy," called his driver, "We aren't here to play!"

Mighty didn't reply and kept on going. They bounced and bucketed along the line so much that his crew were beginning to get nervous. Mighty soon came to the tunnel. When Falcon first came to the railway, he had an incident here in which he derailed and almost fell down the hill. Duke rescued him and would go on about it to Mighty and Mac also...

Mighty smiled as began to exit the tunnel. Then he bounced so hard he derailed himself in the near exact location to Falcon's. But instead of being stopped, he just kept on going and turned over to fall down the hill, with the trucks screaming after him and his driver and fireman jumping out of the cab. Falcon and Smudger watched in horror as Mighty rolled down the hill, smashing and banging all over the place. Until he came to the bottom and disappeared. There was a loud crash, and a bang, and a tree toppled over nearby where Mighty had disappeared.

Falcon and Smudger were aghast. So where the passengers who were shocked beyond belief.

"What the bloody hell?!" screamed Falcon.

"I'll go a check," said Smudger, as his driver released the regulator, and the little green engine rushed to the scene.

They found the scene a few yards away from the railway. Just like many people predicted from what they witness, Mighty had crashed into the tree, his boiler had the full impact and had burst, causing the explosion and the tree to fall on top of him. His face was unrecognisable, with shards of metal sticking out of it, clearly from the cause of the explosion of the boiler.

There was no way of getting out of that alive, and Smudger felt sick inside.

*

They cleared up the mess that night. Putting a tarpaulin over the dead Mighty for passenger to not see. They took Mighty away later that night, Smudger taking him to the junction, where the facility that had took Mac, took him too.

We never saw MightyMac again. Any essence of them was either cleared away or rusted on the hill.

It was soon found out that Mighty had committed suicide and that he killed himself on purpose, and it wasn't long before the media had put in the newspaper. Almost immediately, loads of passengers stopped coming. They didn't want to run on a railway that had suicidal engines. They took buses instead, and after a fortnight of the media releasing many newspapers. The railway closed down passenger services, and our line became a tramway.

*

Skarloey was in shock. Sir Handel remained a bit pale, and Peter Sam tried to hold back some tears.

"They were," shivered Skarloey, "they were the cause of-"

"Not entirely," Peter Sam interjected, "Mighty did make us lose our passengers, but the mines were still in good use."

"That cursed bastard," wheeshed Sir Handel, "He made me pull goods for years! He was the reason for the railway to close! He... he..."

Sir Handel trailed off. Skarloey glanced over, sympathetic for one of the newcomers.

He now understood why Sir Handel hated going to the slate quarries. Why he made himself derail on his first week just to get out of going there.

Because he was afraid of what could happen to his own fate. The end of his tale, and Skarloey wouldn't want that either.

To be killed in a mining accident.

~To Be Continued~


	28. Ep26: At The Slate Quarry

A few months had passed after Peter Sam had told Skarloey about the tale of MightyMac and now the old engine had been sent to the work's after one of his springs snapped on his first run in ages.

Sir Handel was let out before that, and was put back into passenger services. He was more gentle with the coaches now, and the coaches were more lenient to not play tricks on the arrogant engine.

Peter Sam was put mainly on goods. The trucks didn't mind him, they preferred him to Sir Handel and behaved for him well.

The line was running nicely. But the trains started to go down. Peter Sam was worried, less slate was coming out from the quarry and now the trips were getting fewer and fewer.

Peter Sam was beginning to get worried.

"I don't like this," he said to Sir Handel that night. "The slate trains have been getting lesser and lesser ever since we've arrived!

"When did it start?" asked Sir Handel, who looked uninterested by the whole situation.

"It started back when Rheneas left and Skarloey was put out of service," replied the friendly engine.

Sir Handel hummed. "Maybe it's time this railway should be a line for only passengers to run on, and not for goods," he said.

Peter Sam huffed. "Then what will the farmers do then?" he asked, "They need their livestock to be moved about sometimes, and also the supplies for the villagers up there too! They won't be able to carry on without us!"

"...I didn't think that through," said Sir Handel blankly.

"No," replied Peter Sam, "No you didn't."

*

A week later, Sir Handel was ordered to collect some trucks at the slate quarry one morning instead of Peter Sam.

Sir Handel complained bitterly about it, but had no choice in the matter.

As he puffed away, Peter Sam's driver watched. He turned to his own engine as they went out of site.

"Does he like slate quarries?" he asked.

"No, he doesn't," sighed Peter Sam.

*

"Rotten place," grumbled the arrogant engine, "why do they even have to be on this railway anyways?"

"They're to help us civilians survive," replied his driver.

"I wasn't talking to you driver!" whistled Sir Handel.

"Then to who then?"

"I...I...Just shut up," hissed Sir Handel, as he puffed into the quarry.

He came to holt right near the sidings. The foreman gave the driver the sheet of paper, and Sir Handel set to work.

"This is ridiculous!" exclaimed Sir Handel, as he bashed into some trucks. "I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be working with dirty trucks in dirty quarries."

The trucks shared the same look at each other. "He's turning into that James isn't he?" said one.

Sir Handel bashed the truck hard after hearing that.

He then looked over the yard, to see the foreman of the quarry talking with some gruff-dressed looking men. All having green uniforms that Sir Handel has seen a few times before mainly in both world wars and newspapers.

"They're from the army, aren't they?" he said to his driver.

The driver looked up to the men and nodded. "Apparently from Terry and Mike," he said, referring to Peter Sam's crew. "They've been here for quite some time. Coming every once a week. Some employees have asked the Thin Controller but he just laughs it off!"

Sir Handel looked over to the men and just decided to get back to work. He then finished up the work by midday, and set off back to Crovan's Gate with train full of slate.

He puffed over the old iron bridge. Looking down at the river below. Rheneas broke down on it one time and Skarloey had to rescue him.

'Stuck on a bridge, stuck on a bridge,' he thought, 'silly place.'

Later that night, the two little engines were back at the sheds. Peter Sam stirred though, and as he did, he saw a figure of a steam engine, shunting a flatbed by him on the standard gauge line. Peter Sam didn't bother, he wasn't fully awake.

He woke up, thinking it as a dream, and set off to work. This time, he was going to work with trucks.

Peter Sam worked on goods duties most of the day, he eventually would work at the quarry for most of the evening until it was time to leave. By then, it was mostly dark and you could barely see the quarry.

Peter Sam was with the last load of slate trucks and carriages that the workmen would go back on. He was waiting patiently, sizzling nicely, when he a light puffing noise coming from nearby.

"Sir Handel?" he called. No answer. But instead, he heard an engine rush by a nearby track and rattled away.

Peter Sam was surprised. But before he could ask what it was, his driver stepped into his cab. "Come on then," he called, "the line is clear now."

Peter Sam then rolled out of the slate quarry. Still thinking about what he heard, and kind've saw.

*

"I'm telling you Sir Handel it was very odd indeed!"

Sir Handel scoffed. "Really Peter Sam?" he asked, "You really think that this tiny railway will have another engine?"

"Well maybe another company bought one!" replied Peter Sam.

"You must've been seeing things."

"No," said Peter Sam crossly, "No I wasn't."

Sir Handel just chuckled as he began to go back to his dosing in the morning sun. Peter Sam harrumphed and went to collect his trucks.

Sir Handel was put on passenger duties again for today. He didn't complain a bit and handled the coaches better than he first did. After all, Skarloey taught him a thing or two about them.

It was evening when he was shunting the coaches into the shed. The bright, yellow sun was going down into the distant hills and Dir Handel was being uncoupled, when the yard foreman arrived.

"There has been an accident with some trucks at slate quarry!" he informed. Please collect some workmen and a crane and take them up there!"

Sir Handel's jaw dropped. He was about to reply, when he was stopped by his crew. "SHUT IT."

*

Peter Sam waited, until Sir Handel finally came with two trucks with men and tools in them, a van with more tools and a crane.

"Ah, so you are still-WAIT WHAT?!"

Peter Sam looked back to see what Sir Handel was looking at and smiled sheepishly. "I was asked to take the workmen back whilst you clean up the mess," replied the friendly engine.

"B-But you should clean your mess up?"

"I wasn't the one who made the mess!" Peter Sam cried, "Some trucks' brakes failed and they came off the rails on some points! I wasn't even there when it happened!"

Sir Handel wheeshed steam. "Well you're the engine who was doing the goods work."

"Oh for pity sake Sir Handel," sighed Peter Sam, "Just stop being so selfish and do the work!"

Then friendly engine left, leaving Sir Handel speechless. When he did, he started grumbling even more.

*

"Have you seen that engine?"

"You mean?"

"Yeah that one!"

"Hey! What are you all chatting about?" asked Sir Handel to the trucks.

The trucks all whispered among each other, then one spoke. "Have you seen that ghost engine?"

Sir Handel raised a brow. "No, of course I haven't!"

"Well we have seen an engine coming here nearly every night."

"Yeah! It rushed through here, sometimes as quietly as it could, sometimes whistling fit to burst!"

"You'd better be careful on your run back down the line Sir Poshy," warned the truck, "Otherwise the ghost will catch you!"

"Pah!" scoffed Sir Handel.

*

It was late by the time they finished, the sun was now fully gone with it's light, and the blue moon took it's place. Slate trucks were needed to be taken back to Crovan's Gate, so Sir Handel collected roughly six of them. Placed them in front of the train he brought in, and set back down the line.

Sir Handel was rushing, he hated the slate quarry, and at dark he felt very nervous. So when he managed to get to the old iron bridge, he was rushing so much with his heavy train that he burst his safety valve, nearly halfway across the bridge.

"Oh great!" said Sir Handel, "Now what are we going to have to do?"

"Call for help probably," replied his driver, looking down to the ravine. "But I can barely get off you with how narrow this blasted bridge is!"

"So we have to sit here!"

"I'm afraid so," grumbled the fireman.

"Oh that's just perfect!" exclaimed Sir Handel, "First the trucks, then the trucks, and now-"

Suddenly, a whistle was heard from the darkness. Sir Handel's headlamp flickered, and then shut off completely. "W-W-W-What was t-that?" he stammered.

His driver and fireman looked through the fog, and a small light came blinking from the trees, and the quick pace of chuffing came echoing towards Sir Handel.

*

Peter Sam was waiting at the sheds. He had managed to get to red bricked one and not the wooden one this time and was glad. But was beginning to get worried.

"Sir Handel should've been back by now," said Peter Sam.

"Maybe something went wrong that delayed the operation to put those slate trucks back," replied the fireman.

Peter Sam didn't think so. "No, I don't think he would've."

Just then, a whistle was heard coming the standard gauge lines. Deep puffing bodies were heard, and out come from the beaming lights of Crovan's Gate, came Molly.

"Hello Peter Sam," she called to Peter Sam as he puffed into the siding next to their sheds. "How's trix?"

"Very well, thank you" smiled Peter Sam, "But Sir Handel hasn't gotten back yet. I hope he's okay. After all, he hates working at night."

Molly chuckled. "I think he's fine," she replied.

"I do hope so," said Peter Sam, "After all, the trucks have been twittering about a mysterious engine running around the quarry every night. I've seen it only once, but Sir Handel hasn't."

Molly raised an eyebrow; a smirk covered her face. "Hasn't he now?" she asked.

"Yes. Wait a minute."

Peter Sam stared at Molly. "You know something. Don't you?"

"Let's wait and see," replied Molly.

A few minutes of Peter Sam wondering what Molly had meant, a shrill whistle was heard. It was coming up the line of narrow gauge track, but it wasn't Sir Handel's.

Another few minutes later, Sir Handel was pulled into the wooden shed next to Peter Sam, by a black engine. He was uncoupled from the arrogant engine, and pulled away a bit.

"Hello Molly!" he called cheerfully, "How are you?"

"Very well thank you," chuckled the strong engine, "Now let's give you introductions to the other engine."

Molly cleared her throat. "Peter Sam, this is Luke," she introduced, "Luke, this is Peter Sam, and I see you've already met Sir Handel!"

"Oh yes!" giggled Luke, "I've already met Sir Handel, it was very surprising and funny to see him scream so loudly!"

The engine had a thick Irish accent, Peter Sam has to make a note for that. Sir Handel at the meantime, was fuming.

"I did not scream!" he objected, "It was... it was... my steam rising." Luke laughed.

"Luke is part of the S.R.F," explained Molly, "He's only here to help us with military work when it comes for us to work up your line."

Sir Handel and Peter Sam glanced at each other.

"Why are you telling us this now?" asked Peter Sam.

"We were keeping it a secret so that any enemy won't be able to notice," replied Molly, "When we knew it was safe we were then going to tell you."

There was silence after that. Nobody knew what to think.

*

Luke was very energetic from what Peter Sam saw. He was eager and willing to help. Much to the friendly engine's surprise, Luke managed to get Sir Handel into going to the slate quarry again.

After a few weeks, Sir Handel didn't mind going to the slate quarry. He still hated trucks and wasn't keen on going to work with them. But didn't complain as much.

Peter Sam thought Luke did wonders, and will be a valuable friend from then on.


	29. Ep27: Controls

**A/N: In the actual Railway Series, the Culdee Fell engines weren't built in Switzerland, so I've decided to give them a headcanon of them knowing Swiss German as well, but they've lost a bit of their accents.**

~1953~

"Well this is indeed interesting."

"Ja, it is."

"But I don't get why we need to have this new system? We were fine on our own!"

"Indeed," replied Mr Richards, "with your automatic brakes and all. But this will let you be in control of yourself."

Wilfred and Ernest glanced at each other, sceptical of what the manager had proposed to them. The control lever...

*

In the near middle of Sodor, is tall mountain. That tall mountain goes up to 2046 ft-high, and is called, Culdee Fell. It has a Railway too, that goes all the way from the bottom to the top.

The railway was built for tourists and to be line that can help climbers go up and down the mountain. There were originally five engines, but one crashed years ago, and two others were sent back to the works they were built in, which was in Switzerland.

Wilfred and Ernest had come back from being overhauled there too, and were glad for the return. But they had something installed on them, the new control lever was invented in 1950. With the dawn of new engines, the railway board decided to get scientists to create a way to have the engines move on their own. When they found a way, it came with a lever. By this time, only a few engines had this lever on Sodor. Such as Edward, Molly, Gordon, Henry and James. The North Western were planning to get Thomas, Percy and Toby fitted soon too and soon the Skarloey Railway and Culdee Fell took a keen interest in it as well.

Before they were shipped back to the United Kingdom, Wilfred and Ernest were quickly installed with this lever and system. It only took an extra week to fit it in, but the two manage to get back to their own railway just before number four and five, Culdee and Shane Dooiney were sent to Switzerland next.

The four quickly got to converse for a day until the other two were sent away. This left only Wilfred and Ernest on their little railway. The two didn't mind that, but they did mind the new control system.

"I just don't get it!" said Ernest, "we were just fine! We had our automatic brakes before, and the drivers drove us just fine!"

"I know," replied Mr Richards, "But we had the thought that you two would be better off with controlling your own body. After all, we can control ours, why don't we help you control yours?"

Wilfred and Ernest glanced at each other again for a second time, blankly. "Eh."

Mr Richards sighed. He never understood those two. Culdee and Shane Dooiney obliged with this, but it looked like Wilfred and Ernest were denying it completely.

They preferred the old ways, with Justin's controlling their automatic brakes and their drivers making them steam along.

But they had it now, and Lord Harry Barrane, the chairman of the board, wasn't going to have the engines unfitted from the control lever anytime soon. Wilfred and Ernest just had to get use to it.

*

Wilfred was the first to have trouble. A few weeks after the two engines returned, he was at the Skarloey Road. The midway point towards the mountain.

His driver then called to him. "Alright Wilfred," he called, "Let's see how you work with your control lever."

Wilfred groaned. "Well alright then."

He tried to start off, but he couldn't. He tried again, nothing happened. "Oh bugger," he murmured to himself and tried again. This time even harder than the last.

He groaned and growled. His wheels barely moved, he didn't even feel the weight of his own coach. The passengers all looked from inside the coach, even hikers from nearby stopped to see Wilfred growled and grunt.

Suddenly.

"Woah stop Wilfred!" yelled the driver.

"Why?" gasped Wilfred.

"Well, I didn't put the control lever on," smiled the driver sheepishly.

Wilfred's face turned to realisation. His jaw dropped and he looked off into the distance. "Well," he said finally, "that's embarrassing."

The driver agreed and pulled the control lever. Wilfred tried again, and this time, he moved. Wilfred felt himself, controlling his own body. But he didn't feel uncomfortable with it.

Yes it felt odd. But he couldn't help but smile a little when going further up the mountain.

*

The next incident was a little more worrying. Even though they were all numbered with Ernest being number two, Wilfred being number three, Culdee being number four and Shane Dooiney being number five. They were all different ages to how there numbers portrait them.

Ernest was actually the youngest and Wilfred was the oldest. Shane Dooiney was the second and Culdee the third.

Ernest was more naive than the others. But he also had the near, same opinions to Wilfred. But when his driver asked him if he wanted to try the control lever when they reached Shiloh, the second station right before the bottom one.

Ernest didn't refuse as much as his eldest brother.

But he decided not to try it until he was suppose to break. So he coasted down the line instead. Because he had automatic brakes before this sort of upgrade, Ernest thought it would be different, but he thought wrong.

So when he was coming near the bit of track where the engines would usually brake for, Ernest surprisingly sped up instead. Ernest was shocked. His crew too as they sped down the line.

"Woah Ernest!" yelled the driver, holding onto dear life inside the cab. "Stop the train! Stop the train!"

Ernest was panicking too much to do anything. He rumbled around a bend and began to decent the last part of the line before reaching the bottom station. His driver knew Ernest wasn't listening, so he switched off the control lever, and applied the brakes himself.

Ernest came to a screeching stop right by the sheds. His driver and fireman sighed in relief.

"That was lucky," said the fireman.

"Indeed," agreed the driver, "Come on now Ernest! We can head to the station now!"

But Ernest was too shaken up to move. When the crew realised this, they told the guard to guide the passengers who were on the train to take them to the platform.

The guard did so and took the surprised and confused passengers to the train which an electric engine was going to continue to pull on.

Ernest refused to move until Wilfred eventually arrived at the bottom of the mountain. Ernest's brakes were taken off and Wilfred pushed him and his coach to the station platform. He then went on the other side once his own passengers got off.

"Hallo Ernest," he said in German. "You're lucky that that was your last run of the day! So tell me, what's the matter?"

"It's this new control lever thingy!" sighed Ernest sadly. "The entire railway staff has said it would be better but the first time I've tried I've could've derailed and nearly injure my passengers!"

Wilfred smiled at Ernest. "Remember that time, when at the opening of the railway, Shane Dooiney derailed himself at the coach shed, and would barely go near it afterwards?"

"Ja," replied Ernest.

"Who was it that got him out of not going over those tricky points?"

"You."

"No no no!" laughed Wilfred, "It was both of us. We managed to get Shane Dooiney's confidence back when he came off that tricky track section with telling him to try again."

"And when he did, he managed not to derail," finished Ernest, realisation dawned on him.

"Exactly," grinned Wilfred, "you might never get it right the first time. But most times, there's always a second try."

Ernest smiled warmly back at Wilfred. "Thanks Wilfred."

"Don't mention it! Now, why don't we try and take our coaches back to their sheds by our control?"

*

Ernest and Wilfred did try again. Both actually succeeding with shunting their coaches and going to the sheds. Both usually take drive under their control now, even though the driver is still needed to check on the engine.

Both engines did learn something about this though. That you should always try new things, and Ernest learnt something else too. That even when you fail, you can always try again and again.

He got that from Wilfred, y'know? And maybe himself too.


	30. Ep28: Ditches & Mines

~1953~

The tweets of the birds.

The sound of the wind, rustling through the trees.

Don't you just love that peaceful sound?

But then you get interrupted by that big engine, named Gordon.

"Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!"

"Gordon! Watch your speed!"

"Nobody cares Toby!"

"Ugh, arrogant engine," sighed Toby, as he wheeshed steam crossly at the platform.

Gordon came into the station, early as per usual. James was nearby with a goods train. He was waiting for his path to clear and was grumbling as usual.

"Heh, whining again James?" asked the big blue engine.

"I am not!" whistled the red engine, "I'm just... talking to myself."

"Hmmm, indeed," Gordon smirked, as he was uncoupled from the train and ran around it. Passing Percy, who came off the siding where he usually stood.

"Thank you little Percy!" he called, "Keep yo the good work!"

Percy was stunned, so was James, as Gordon rushed past him to the yards behind the big station.

"Telling me to keep up the good work?" repeated Percy, "he's in a good mood!"

James only rolled his eyes as he pulled away, and onto the mainline.

*

Gordon decided to doze in an empty siding, it wasn't like his old siding back at Vicarstown. But it did serve him well when the sun was out.

"Sometimes," he yawned, "it's really hard to be a large and splendid engine, such as myself, to keep up grand appearances. After all, I do deserve the respect I get around here."

A shrill of a whistle, and the loud, strong puffs of an engine, and Henry popped out of nowhere behind Gordon.

"Peep peeeeep! Hello fat face!" called the green engine rudely.

Gordon's eyes opened wide, he glared at Henry, as he puffed by laughing his smokebox off. His face, almost red.

"The bloody cheek of an engine!" he burst out furiously. "Fancy speaking to me like that! Me, who has never! BLOODY NEVER! Had a bloody accident!"

"Are you ever going to stop saying the b word?" Gordon looked to see Percy the small engine stopping besides him.

"Well-I-I...err..." spluttered Gordon, "err...m-my excuses are clear, Henry said fat face to me and we are technically out of public boundaries to say pronounce words for us to not be heard from the station."

Percy smirked. "Whatever, and also, isn't burst safety valves or blown off whistle accidents?"

Gordon growled. "Those are just mere faults," he replied, "accidents are when an engine comes off the rails."

"But didn't fall into that marshland last year?"

"That wasn't my fault!" Gordon exclaimed, "Signalman's error, Jerome being over confident, and Mickey having a breakdown!"

Percy sniffed. Seeming like he had just lost what could've been a moment of him making the big engine loose his words. "And how's that to compare with Henry?" he asked.

"He had an accident with his kipper train," replied Gordon, "he should've been less careless and be more concentrated on the rails! It is indignant!"

"Indigey-thing indeed," sighed Percy, as he puffed off.

*

The next morning, Gordon was still feeling insulted by Henry's remark. His ego had been built up too, and the green engine had soon regretted being cheeky to his big engine.

"It's not indignant to do such an insolent thing!" growled Gordon.

Henry rolled his eyes, as his colleague pulled off to collect his express.

James and Percy only glared at Henry.

*

Ben was shunting at Wellworth yards. He had been sent there by the manager after the Fat Controller asked for one of the China clay twins to come and help organise the yards. He thought he was doing well, until Edward arrived.

"Ben!"

"Ugh. What?!"

"Why are trucks in that siding over there?" called the blue engine, as his passengers climbed out of his coaches.

"Um... I don't know, because it's a siding?!" yelled Ben sarcastically.

"Then I don't know that that siding is not suppose to have trucks in it!" Edward yelled back.

"And why's that?"

"Because that's the banker's siding!"

"...oh okay that makes sense," said Ben, and he quickly scampered out of the yard to collect the trucks. Edward rolled his eyes.

The blue engine watched as Ben as picked up the trucks and began to move them back to the yards. The banker's siding was on the other side of the station from the yards, so it would take some time before Ben would've been able to get the trucks back to the yards.

But what Ben hasn't realised, and what Edward had forgot, was Gordon was thundering down the line. The same line as Ben.

The loud whistle echoed it's way to both engine's funnels. Both engine's eyes widen.

"Hurry Ben!" shouted Edward. Ben didn't hesitate, as he picked up speed with getting to the points to enter the yards.

Edward blew his whistle in response to Gordon's. Three blasts, the last one the longest. Gordon heard it and gasp. "The emergency whistle," he cried and immediately applied the brakes.

He turned round the corner, and yelled in horror as he saw Ben pushing some trucks into the yard off his line.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!"

Ben eventually did in under a second. The points being changed, and Gordon screeched by a few seconds later, mere inches to Ben's cab.

Gordon stopped right next to station, with only having the last four coaches off the platform. Ben sighed in relief, as Gordon fumed.

"BILLLL!!!"

"It's Ben actually."

"I DON'T CARE!! YOU NEARLY CAUSE A SERIOUS ACCIDENT FROM YOUR RECKLESSNESS!!!"

"Actually Gordon-"

"Hold a second Edward. You are a fool Ben! Absolute fool-"

"GORDON!! I was the one who told him to get the trucks from the banker's siding!"

Gordon stared at Edward. "What?"

"It was my fault, I forgot you come at this hour and told Ben to collect the trucks he placed at the banker's siding."

Gordon's jaw dropped. "Well, I-um..."

He trailed off, and puffed out of the station. Steam hissing even more than usual. Edward sighed in relief, he then looked over to Ben.

"Be very lucky that I took the blame," he said. Ben could only agree.

*

Because of trying to make up for lost time, and partly for yelling at Ben, Gordon ran out of steam at Crovan's Gate. He forced off it with the remaining steam he had, and Henry, who was in the yards, took over the train.

Gordon could only watch as the green engine wheeshed proudly away. He was soon buffered up by the engine who ran the Norramby branch, who was luckily taking a train back to Vicarstown. This meant he had to shunt Gordon and pulled his train, on the mainline. Gordon didn't mind being pushed along. But he did mind one thing.

"Pushed by a dirty engine with a dirty goods train! Oh the shame of it! The shame of it!"

"Watch it you!" snapped the engine, "You express engines get it lucky. We don't get cleaned as much as you do with your washes and polishes!"

The two bickered the rest of the way. They were still arguing by the time they reached the station. Both crews sighed in relief, as the Norramby engine was quickly uncoupled and moved off.

"That's right bugger off," murmured Gordon to himself. He then looked around to his surroundings. He then realised that he was in his old siding that he use to sleep in at Vicarstown.

"Ah the memories," he said, remembering that one time with Adam as he went into his siding one time. He then went to sleep.

Minutes went by fast, and soon Gordon was wide awake again, as he watched Henry the green engine pull in with the return express train.

"Ah, you brought my train back here for me," Gordon smiled, "that's a good engine, now I can take it the rest of the way."

"Well that's the thing," said Henry, "we're switching jobs for the rest of the day. I do your work, whilst you do mine."

"W-WHAT?!"

"Don't ask me, ask the Fat Controller," replied Henry, "he was the one that made the arrangements."

A guard's whistle was heard and Henry rolled swiftly away.

"Make sure you stay on the rails today Henry!" yelled Gordon, "that is the express! Not the flying kipper!"

Henry snorted and pretended to ignore the engine, making Gordon be even more annoyed. Another few minutes later and his crew returned to the big blue engine.

"Come on Gordon!" called his driver, "Henry's train is needed to be taken from here, and you're the only engine available."

"Coaches or trucks?"

"...Trucks."

"TRUCKS??! Oh the indignity!" cried out Gordon. His fireman began to build up steam, but couldn't get Gordon going properly.

So that loaned tank engine had to take him to the turntable instead.

"I won't go! I won't go!" said Gordon stubbornly.

"Oh stop ya complainin' you ol' sod," grumbled back the loaned tank engine as she shunted the heavy engine onto the turntable.

The turntable wasn't positioned anywhere particular. It was just there for engines to turn around, so to go back the way they came. Sometimes it was used to turn brake coaches around. It was, though, positioned near the exit of the yards, with a through line and a track midway that led an engine to another track, but for another engine to go the other way, they could be at risk, with going into a ditch, which was at the bottom of an embankment.

As Gordon was being prepared to be turned around, he had remembered that his control lever was still on. Making him able to move on his own. His crew was out of his cab, so he was on his own on the turntable. As he was turned halfway, he felt the turntable stop.

This was his chance, he began to move forward, to break the turntable, if they moved it again. They were about too, but realised Gordon was moving by himself.

"GORDON!!!" yelled his driver.

Gordon growled. But when he tried to apply his brakes, they didn't work. He realised that he couldn't stop and before anyone could say anything, Gordon smashed into the fence and plunged into the ditch below.

"Help!" cried the big engine, "Get me out! GET ME OUT!!"

*

When the Fat Controller heard the news about Gordon's incident, he ordered to let the rescue department not to bother in rescuing the number four anytime soon and said the railway would manage it. They obliged, and Gordon stayed in the ditch for the rest of the day. The dirty water, staining his grand coat of paint.

It was night time when the rescue operation came into fruition, and James and Henry were ordered to pull him out. It was lucky too, as the turntable was on the track that faced the ditch too. The operation was a success, and both Henry and James took Gordon home. Who was now a sadder, and wiser engine...

*

News came across the island fast that Sodor's express engine had fallen into a ditch. It even went onto the front page. Let's just say Gordon felt very embarrassed about the whole ordeal, the Fat Controller punisher Gordon immediately afterwards with pulling goods trains whilst Henry and James took over the express trains.

The engines found it a great joke. But nobody as much as any other, as Thomas.

One day, Gordon arrived at his junction with a full goods train. He was covered in soot and wasn't the glamorous engine he was back a few weeks ago, he was just another dirty goods engine from British Railways. Thomas smirked. "Morning Gordon!" he called.

"All right," sighed the big engine, as he came to holt at the station. "Get all your jokes out now."

"What jokes?" asked Thomas, his eyebrow raised.

"The jokes you make about me going into the ditch."

"Oh that yes! Nope, I don't have any," smiled Thomas.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

There was silence after that. Until Thomas sniffed, then sniffed again, and then again. Gordon looked at the tank engine with a confused glance.

"What is it?"

"Do you smell a smell?" asked Thomas.

"I can't smell a smell," replied Annie.

"It's a musty, sort of smell," continued Thomas.

"Nobody noticed it until you did," said Gordon, "it must be your's."

Thomas scoffed. "I don't think it is," he then paused dramatically, "Annie, Clarabel, you know what I think it is?"

"No Thomas."

"It's ditchwater!"

Gordon's boiler temperature shot up suddenly. But before he could say anything, Thomas was already off, laughing his smokebox off.

Annie and Clarabel could hardly believe their axles. "He's dreadfully rude, I feel quite ashamed. He's dreadfully rude, I feel quite ashamed!" they twittered to each other, as they puffed up the line.

The coaches complained all about Thomas' behaviour until they reached the top station. The tank engine was still laughing as hard as he left his junction.

"That was funny! That was funny," he said to himself.

Annie and Clarabel were in shock as Thomas left them in the coach shed a few minutes later. They had deep respect for Gordon the big engine.

Thomas left the yards, and was ordered to go back up the line to the lead mines, light engine. The lead mines wasn't really safe for some engines, the mines had been dug up underground, some tunnels went right under the rails. An accident happened before Thomas was reallocated to this branch with one of the coffee pot engines and some workmen were severely injured that day. A notice board was put up two days after the accident.

It read: DANGER! Engines must not past this board.

Ever since coming to lead mines the first time, Thomas had always tried to past this board, so to collect his trucks. But he always failed, and had to watch the horses take the one loaded truck in pairs. But Thomas has recently been given the control lever, meaning that he could be able to drive on his own. His driver knew that Thomas would try to go by himself, so he always drives Thomas himself when coming and going from the mines. But today, Thomas' driver had forgotten about the lever. This meant Thomas could move on his own.

"Silly old board," he scoffed, "Ill show them that there's no need!"

As his fireman went to turn the pints so to collect the empty trucks. Thomas whistled loudly. "Now for my plan," he murmured to himself, and to everyone's shock and horror, Thomas jerked forward, banging the empty trucks forward and knocking his driver off the footplate.

"OH! OH! OH! OH!" screamed the truck.

"COME BACK!!" yelled the driver.

But ignored them all, and kept on going. Until he felt the ground shifted underneath him. The ground gave way, and Thomas found himself stuck at the bottom of an unstable, ground filled mine.

"Fire and smoke!" cried Thomas, "I'm sunk!"

And he was. "Oh dear," he said, as men ran up to see what happened. "I am a silly engine."

"Indeed you are."

Thomas gasped and looked up to see the Fat Controller standing at the edge of the dip in the ground.

"S-Sir?!" exclaimed Thomas, "W-What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how things were at this mine, so to figure things out on how to make this place viable to have engines run on it again. Turns out you made a valuable effort on helping me give proof to the National Coal Board."

Thomas sighed sadly. "Please get me out, I won't be naughty again."

"I'm not sure," said the Fat Controller doubtfully, "no crane and get you up from that, and both Mickey and Belle are busy elsewhere. You may have to spend the night here."

"Wait! No! Please sir!" cried Thomas, "I promise you that I won't do something this stupid again! Just please! Get me out!"

The Fat Controller thought for a second. Then an idea came to the top of his head. "That's it!" he exclaimed, "Why don't we get one of the mainline engines to pull you out!"

Thomas stared as the Fat Controller continued. "We get that strong winch from the yards, attach it to an engine strong enough to pull you out, bring him here and pull you out!"

It was now Thomas' turn to look doubtful. "Are you sure sir?" he asked, "branch lines can't really take the weight of a big engine."

The Fat Controller only chuckled. "You'll see," he all but said.

*

Gordon was in the yards, taking on water. Then workmen can running up to him with a winch carries by them. They placed it on Gordon's front buffer without saying a word. The big engine was puzzled.

"What on earth are you doing?" he exclaimed, "I demand to have this taking off me at once!"

"Sorry old boy," replied his driver, who clambered into his cab. "But we got a call that we need a big mainline engine such as yourself to go to the mines of the Ffarquhar branch line. Apparently there's been an accident there."

"I won't go," said Gordon firmly.

The fireman, who had just followed the driver inside too, sighed. "Thomas has gotten himself stuck down a mineshaft."

Gordon stared for a second. Looked down at the winch that had just been fully attached to him by the workmen. He laughed, the first time he laughed since the day before he went into the ditch.

"Well what are we waiting for!" he shouted, "Let's go!"

He started, pulling out of the yards, then going past the station and onto the mainline. He didn't even stop laughing when he reached the branch line.

"Down the mine is he!" he finally breathed, "Haha! What a joke! What a joke!"

He finally got to the junction and switched to the line that went to mines. By the time he found Thomas, lying in a ditch, they had all ready placed him right with hard sleepers put together to make it more easier for Gordon to pull the tank engine up.

"Poop poop poop little Thomas!" whistled Gordon, as he slowly puffed up behind him. "Don't worry, we'll get you out with a couple of puffs!"

Thomas hoped he will. He wasn't pleased to see Gordon now. He did tease the big engine just a few hours ago, but the big blue engine was the only option of him getting out of the hell hole.

The winch was attached to the back of Thomas quickly and the Fat Controller watched the operation with interest. None of his engines had really been apart of a rescue operation that didn't include the fire department in a long, long time. So he wanted to see if this would be an success, or failure.

Once everything was set, Gordon's control lever was placed on, and the Fat Controller raised his arm up into the air.

"Three! Two! One! PULL!"

Gordon pulled, the strong, wired cable tugged between the big engine and tank engine. Gordon gritted his teeth as he pulled and pulled. At first, they all thought Thomas would never budge, but soon enough, the tank engine was pulled swiftly out of the shaft and back onto firm rails once again.

He wasn't fully damaged, but his buffers were needed to be replaced and he was covered in soot. The Fat Controller stared at Thomas' state, then strolled up to him.

"Once you've been given new buffers," he said, "you and Percy will be switching jobs until further notice, I hope this will teach you on how to behave when it comes to danger signs."

"Yes sir, sorry sir," replied Thomas.

The Fat Controller nodded solemnly, then walked over to Gordon. "Good work Gordon," he said, "I hope you keep this up."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," said Gordon formally, and the Fat Controller left for his car.

"I'm sorry that I was so cheeky for the past few weeks," said Thomas.

"That's alright," smiled Gordon, as workmen detached his winched from him. "When I heard you plunged yourself down the mine, it made me laugh!"

The two engines chuckled a tiny bit. Then Gordon broke the silence. "So your in disgrace now?"

"Pretty much," Thomas sighed, "we're both in the same boat now."

"Well you should really say rails," chuckled Gordon, "we should make an alliance."

"An alliance?"

"Of course! You help me, and I help you."

"Sounds all right to me," smiled Thomas, "guess we can give it a try."

"All right then," said Gordon, "that settles it then. I'll take you back to the big station then!"

He puffed up behind the tank engine, and buffer to buffer, Thomas and Gordon went back to the big station. With a strong alliance that will never break.


	31. Ep29: Gordon’s Finest Hour

"Come on now! We will be late! Come on now! WE'LL BE LATE!"

"There's no need to rush, there's no need to rush!" sang the coaches, as they tugged down the mainline with the engine roaring down the hill.

Edward was at his station, he was quietly resting in a siding. Until...

"Peep pip peeeeeeeep!!"

Edward started, as the visiting engine stormed through. "W-Wh-Ho-" exclaimed the blue engine. Only to leave his voice with silent fury as the train disappeared round the bend.

*

Edward was cross about the loud interruption with his nap, and when he's cross, you wouldn't like to know about it. The blue engine stormed through the junction at the big station and coming into platform three. James, who was on platform two, glanced over.

"Are you alright Edward?" he asked.

"Sometimes," began Edward, "city engines can be so rude and loud." And he told James what happened a few hours ago.

"Oh, you mean that engine that came in here two hours ago? She is from the Great Western of all places," James sniggered, "the ladies in that region are what the folks tell me."

"Do you want me to tell Molly then?" Edward asked.

James spluttered and almost coughed out his own ashes. "

"Preparations?" quizzes Edward, "for what?"

"Search me," replied James, "she has barely said a word since her arrival."

The guard's whistle blew, and James left the station. Edward soon left, leaving his coaches at the platform and headed to the depot. He found the engine, standing next to the water to water tower. With Henry a few tracks over.

"So you're saying that you decided to wedge yourself in that tiny tunnel?" asked the engine.

"Well I didn't actually shoved myself in there," Henry replied, "but I did refuse to go out into the rain."

"Wait what?" the engine began to laugh, "so you refused to move to come out of the tunnel, over some rain?"

Henry huffed, he looked over to see Edward steaming in and shone up like he had been saved in a knight in shining armor. The blue engine looked at each steam engine with an expression of curiosity.

"Good afternoon," he said, formally to them both.

"Ah Edward!" said Henry, "Your here, I would love to introduce you to Ava. She is-"

"-An Great Western Railway 4000 'Star' Class tender locomotive," interrupted Ava, looking prideful.

"You must be the engine that stormed through my station," said Edward, with stern look on his face.

"Did I?" replied Ava, "I do apologise then, I'm from London you see, and we have to be quiet loud so for people to pay attention to us."

"Yes well, you've clearly do a good job on getting people's attention on you," Henry interjected. Before Edward could respond to Henry's comment, the steam engine rumbled off to some other place. Ava watched crossly as Henry steamed off.

"What's his problem?" she asked.

"Henry has never really gotten on with the opposite gender on rails," sighed Edward, "only a few he get's along with."

"Why?"

"I don't know myself, it's odd, but then again, that's an engine who stuck himself inside a tunnel."

Both engines chuckled from the blue engine's joke. Ava then glanced at Edward. "Edward your name was?"

"Indeed I am."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you," smiled Ava, "meeting an infamous engine from some children's books is quite an honour."

Edward smiled. "Thank you, the author does do his wonders, even though a few stories are not always fully accurate, they are well written."

Ava grinned. "I see, a few of my fellow engines in London have talked about you a lot, especially when the first few books came out. Let's just say some were trying to get themselves into a book themselves."

Edward chuckled lightly. "I could only imagine," he said, "you come from London did you say?"

"Yes I do," Ava replied.

"Why have you come here then?" asked the blue engine, "something about preparations for a special occasion?"

"That red bloke told you half of what I said," sighed Ava, "silly git, I told him earlier, probably distracted by something else I predict."

"That's our James," Edward sniggered.

"Anyways, I'm here because I needed to take a special train full of servants, inspectors, knights and all sorts all the way from London."

"But, why?"

"Why they're getting everything ready for the grand arrival."

"Whose arrival?"

"Why the Queen Elizabeth II of course!" howled Ava, who found Edward's face hilarious.

*

Word spread fast. People from all over the island were all curious on what a royal was going to do on their tiny island. But the engines were all curious on who was to pull the queen's train.

"I'm too old to pull the majesty's train," said Edward solemnly, and he knew if he even tried to pull it, he wouldn't be as fast as use to.

"Don't put yourself Edward," sympathized Peter, who was currently allocated to the main terminus sheds.

"Oh please," scoffed James, "he wouldn't even make it to Cronk station before failing."

"And you can't climb hills," said Henry mockingly, "I'll be chosen and be given a new coat of paint, and I'm hoping on that last part. I haven't had a wash down in over a fortnight!"

"Well you could be worse," said Peter, "look at your number four."

Both Henry and James looked to see Gordon the big engine back into the sheds after a hard day of work. Even when he was punished after going into the ditch a few weeks now, Gordon was still not allowed to pull coaches or even have a wash down when he was cleaned from the ditch. Now the big, blue engine was filthy, not even the blue on his paint could be seen with all dirt, dust and grime on his boiler. Even giving you example of him going into the muckiest water ever and he'll still be better than the state he was in.

Gordon sank into the shed right between Peter and Edward. Henry smirked. "Looks like someone hit the coal trains this week!"

"Me? Pah," coughed Gordon.

"Gordon's been helping with the extra work with the coal train recently," Peter replied, "in fact he's been more helpful then you two, with your showing off."

"Well sorry for stopping myself being a hypocrite a week back," wheeshed James.

"Have to admit Henry is the worst at the moment," replied Gordon.

Henry's cheeks went red. "I am not worst!" he defended, "I've been helping with the passenger work for a few weeks and I haven't been late with leaf problems on hills and I don't ever go into ditches!"

"Will you ever let that go?" groaned Edward, "You're one of the reasons you got Gordon agitated into going in that ditch!"

"Pah," scoffed Henry, "no I didn't."

"You did."

"Oh be quiet you red piece of mess!"

"Red piece of mess."

"Oh no."

The argument got so bad that one of the royal inspectors had to threaten them with not getting the royal train. But there was still tension high next morning.

The stations were all being decorated for queen to arrive to Sodor, especially Tidmouth and Vicarstown for the day when she'll arrive. Painters came to repaint the roofs of the stations, rich red was going over the dull colours of Vicarstown, and bright white was being glossed over at Tidmouth.

It was raining that day too, and with having the cab wide open to wetness, the crews of the tender engines would try and salvage tarpaulins that would be at the back of the sheds in case of these issues. Henry was in such a mood from James' fight that the crew were actually thankful that the sun wasn't going to scorch Henry's stannier tender.

"Don't be in such a paddy Henry," said the driver.

"Paddy? Paddy!"

"Nice going," murmured the fireman to the driver, who had his fingers on his temple as Henry complained all the way to the station.

*

"I see you're getting everything nice and clean for the day of arrival as well Topham," said the head inspector, as the two men walked along the platform at Tidmouth.

"Indeed," replied the Fat Controller, "this is my region of British Railways after all and I must play my part."

"I understand," said the head inspector, "but, may I dare say, even though you run the operation here. I must incline that our engine who brought the preparations will be taking the train."

"What?" said the Fat Controller, who turned around so quickly that the head inspector didn't expect someone like him to move to quickly.

"Like I said Topham," replied the head inspector, "the royal train will be taken by our engine from London."

"And why do you say that?"

"Well, because she has the experience of pulling these type of important trains, she is strong, reliable, and she's a great representative to British Railways."

"You mean that my engines aren't?"

"Well, look at them!"

"They look less bland to the engines on the mainland," argued the Fat Controller, "and the board of directors said that they didn't mind us keeping the original paintwork."

"Well, we are just thinking it's for the best," said the head inspector, "after all, we haven't had much accidents as you did at the moment."

"What about the accident in August 15th?"

Both gentlemen turned to look at a scruffy looking Thomas. He too had a similar punishment to Gordon after the incident at the lead mines, and had switched jobs with Percy, and also wasn't allowed to be given a wash down unless direct orders from the Fat Controller. Now Thomas was looking dirty, worn and very tired indeed.

"And the accident in 1953," continued the tank engine, "y' know? That Harrow and Wealdstone crash in 1953 that killed over one hundred people and injured probably three hundred more."

"What are you getting at number one?" asked the head inspector.

"The last death we had on this railway was a workman being hit by a rock by a child in 1937," replied Thomas, "that was over two decades ago? And the last time someone got injured, was by being careless with a hammer in January."

"And?" quizzed the head inspector, his fist curling. The Fat Controller was going to intervene, but couldn't when Thomas abruptly replied.

"You think by more accidents think that your better?" he said, "but instead it's the scale of how bad the accident is that matters."

The head inspector growled. "This matters on image," he said, "the engine I want on the train has never had an incident and even when she's delayed it isn't her fault."

Thomas rolled his eyes. The Fat Controller decided it was best to interrupt the man and machine's quarrel. "I sincerely apologise for one of my engine's rudeness," he said, Thomas' jaw dropped in shock. "But I have to insist that my number three pulls the royal train. He seems a reasonable choice, midland bred and he's strong and has been very reliable for the past few weeks. I'm sure he's the perfect choice."

There was a clang, a yell and clash of metal hitting metal with the splashing sound of paint. The engine and men turned to see Henry coming to halt, not even pulling his entire train into the platform. With a bucket on top of his boiler and white paint dripping down his boiler. And there, on his tarpaulin, was a painter that had been painting the roof of Tidmouth on a ladder.

"My hand!" he cried, "I think my hand is broken"

Quickly, Henry's crew and a few porters got him down off Henry. The head inspector and the Fat Controller rushed over. Thomas sighed and looked at Henry.

"Couldn't have picked a better time Henry!" he called, the green engine scowled at the tank engine and went back to seeing if the painter was all right. The head inspector turned around to the Fat Controller.

"Guess you your number three isn't as reliable as you think Topham?" he said, "I'll be guessing that the No.4073 will be taking the train then?"

The Fat Controller said nothing. The head inspector saw this as an answer and walked past the stout gentleman.

Thomas thought he saw a smirk on his face.

*

"I mean, it is an honour to pull such a train!"

"Is it now?" asked Peter.

"It is! I have to be surprised about this," exclaimed Ava, "because I was only expecting to bring the preparations, meets the queen, and then go back to London in under three days! The queen was definitely not on the list though. Now please excuse me, I need to take a passenger train to Vicarstown."

Ava left the depot with Peter in slight annoyance. Gordon came alongside the 8F. "I don't get it," sighed Peter, "you've been working on this railway for many years and none of you are allowed to pull the royal train!"

"Indeed," sighed Gordon, "at least Henry got what he deserved."

Both were interrupted by the banging of trucks by Thomas. He looked like he was going to rip an entire truck off.

"What's up with you?" asked Peter.

"That blooming inspector!" Thomas cried out, "he has the nerve to say we have more accidents than on the mainland, say we don't create a good image and he was smirking when someone broke his hand! WHEN SOMEONE HAD BROKEN HIS HAND!!"

"All right, calm down," replied Peter.

Gordon groaned. "Don't worry Thomas," he said, "I'm sure that inspector will get his soon. Right now I have taken a goods train to Vicarstown."

Gordon steamed off, leaving Thomas and Peter behind.

The big engine collected his train, which was a slow mix train, and headed out onto the mainline. An hour later, he was coming to Cronk, but was halted a mile before the station. Gordon was cross. "The day couldn't get any worse," he mumbled, "now what's the matter?"

A passenger guard stood down on the ground, he took down his hand that carried a red flag and looked quite tired.

"No.4073 has failed at the station, " he said, "and you're the only engine that is available to pull it."

"Clearly not, " scoffed Gordon, looking back at his own train.

"Please, " begged the guard, "you are strongest engine that is closest to the train!"

Gordon sighed. "All right!" he said, "let's go."

He steamed towards the station, finding the Great Western locomotive there. Hissing steam wildly. Gordon didn't say a word, he shunted his own goods train into the yard, went to the front of Ava, and giving the toot of his whistle, the big engine pulled off.

It took a while, and many minutes lost, Gordon had to hurry. But eventually, he rumbled in platform four of Vicarstown station. Many people gathered to watch as a grubby Gordon pulled in an embarrassed Ava. The Fat Controller was conveniently there too with the head inspector, who looked like he had the biggest shock in his life.

Both men came up to the engines, the Fat Controller was the first to speak. "Gordon," he said, "explain what happened."

Gordon did, and by the time he finished his quick summary, the head inspector looked fuming and the Fat Controller was beaming.

"Well inspector," started the Fat Controller, raising his eyebrows with that knowing look of what will inevitably happen. "The chosen engine that was to pull the royal train has broken down right in front of all these people, almost making her train being late. Is that what you London people view your part of British Railways?"

"She won't be out of action for tomorrow!" exclaimed the head inspector, "she can still pull the train! She'll be better that these-"

"Excuse me sirs."

Both men turned to look at Ava, who had been listening as well as Gordon. She looked determined, a determination the Fat Controller liked to see in every engine.

"I am very honoured to pull the Queen's train sir," she said politely.

"It is an honour," replied the head inspector.

"Yes, but I think the train belongs to Gordon," Ava declared.

The head inspector, Gordon's eyes widen. The Fat Controller's eyes twinkled like stars at the mention of his biggest engine.

"Like I said," she continued, "it is an honour, but I've only been here for only a few days. Gordon has been for what? Since the 1920s? He is also a proud, strong, reliable engine. He has shown to be a credit to this region and once private railway. Plus, he was the first Doncaster pacific to be built, so showing him off to the royal family will show that even the oldest of engines can still impact the railway. So don't be foolish and let him pull the train!"

All three of them, engine and men, where speechless. The head inspector was the first to break the silence with a low growl. He swung around to face the Fat Controller. "You win," he said, and he stomped away.

The Fat Controller watched him leave, and turned to Gordon, who was looking hopefully at him. The stout gentleman examined the entire body of Gordon, then looked back at his face. "I believe," he said, "that you've learned your lesson on working with any train given to you, correct?"

"Oh yes sir!"

"You may still voice your own opinion on them and anything else, but when I ask you to pull a train you don't like, I want no going into ditches again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Oh yes sir! In fact, I never want to go into a ditch ever again to say so myself."

"Good," the Fat Controller paused for a second. He considered Ava's words and decided to go with one of the two options. "Leave Ava here and go and bring your goods train here please. Once your back, we'll be discussing on with how you'll be looking when picking up the royal train."

Gordon grinned. "Yes sir!" he replied, and left. The Fat Controller watched him leave, he came back to Ava. "You'll be collected by my crane engine and be taken to the works," he informed, he smiled warmly. "We don't want an engine out of action who helped with the preparations now."

Ava smiled back.

*

"Why am I here again?"

"Sir Topham Hatt will tell you," replied Thomas' driver. Thomas huffed, as he went inside of the works. It had been a day after Ava was switched with another engine, but that was all the other engines knew. Ava returned the next morning after her breakdown and told nothing to the others. But as he looked to the other side of the work's shed, he got his answer. Gordon stood proud and tall, he had been given a complete wash down, no dirt in trace, his paint was gone too, with only been painted on an undercoat. Edward was right next to him as well, he too was had been given a wash, and was now being oiled and inspected for any worn parts. Thomas stared at the pair.

"What's going on?"

Gordon was about to reply, when the chief mechanic came up to the tank engine. "I guess Topham is havin' this a secret. 'ight?"

"I guess so," replied Thomas.

"Topham has givin' number four tha task to pull tha roya' train," said the chief mechanic, "number two is gonna hav' tha job of clearin' the line, and from Topham, ya got tha job of shuntin' tha coaches once she arrives."

Thomas was stunned. "But, why?"

"Because I requested."

Thomas looked over at Gordon, who gleamed at him. Thomas smiled back at him. "Thank you Gordon," he said. The chief mechanic looked like he was about to say something rude, but was cut off by Edward's stare.

*

The day finally arrived. Gordon and Edward vanished early in the morning to get to Carnforth, where the Queen stayed over night. But the others knew that they had extra work on their buffers. So all did their bit in getting up early and finishing their usual trains they usually take daily. Two hours later, James, Henry, and Ava where bustling up and down the line taking passengers who wanted to see the Queen's train at places where they were allowed. Even Peter took a train. Mickey and Belle patrolled the crowds on different sections of the line with the help from the police department's engines. Even the S.R.F loaned Molly out to help out with following the royal train.

The Ffarquahar, Brendam and Kirk Ronan branch line were closed down temporarily and Percy, Toby and Eagle came to the big station to be put on display. Emily and Whiff joined them half an hour later with the permission of their owners, and eventually, Reginald arrived from the mainland with the last train. By then, all the engines were all lined up in the station, Henry and James at the front on platforms three and four, Percy and Toby behind them and Eagle and Ava at the back. Both Peter and Reginald went on the platforms five and once was platform six to the Arlesbourgh line, and Whiff and Emily behind them. Henrietta was with Toby too, and Annie and Clarabel were on platform two, uncoupled and a few yards away from Thomas, who was in front of them, and was eagerly waiting for the royal train to arrive. All engines were polished and cleaned, with flags covering their buffer beams of the United Kingdom flag. Percy even had bunting on him. People lined up on the station platform and on the barriers that went along the side of the junction to the mainline.

Just as the clock struck the five minutes of when the Queen was about to arrive, Harvey came in breathlessly, cab first. "I'm here! I'm here!" he cried, "sorry I'm late, had a little trouble!"

He back down in front of James. "Hey watch it!" yelled James, "the Queen needs to see the most splendid engine on the railway!"

"You?" snorted Henry.

"You're hardly to talk," called Percy cheekily, "with that paint spill a few days ago!"

"Oh please, no more arguing!" groaned Peter, but it was too late, James, Henry and Percy had already started their argument, even Thomas and Reginald joined in. The rest groaned and Harvey just sneaked past Thomas on the through line between platforms one and two and went in between he and his coaches.

Toby chuckled a little, then looked over a well known reverend. "I'm not surprised you're here," he murmured, "but whatever you do, don't write this in the next book."

"Oh no," grinned Wilbert, "I wouldn't even have enough room for this argument anyways!"

Then there was familiar toot of the whistle, everyone stopped arguing and Edward came coasting in on the through track that went between one and two. "Peep pip peeeep," he whistled delightly, "the Queen is coming!"

And went past Thomas on the through line and came to a stop in front of Harvey. A few more minutes past, then a loud toot of the whistle came echoing from the distance. Everyone knew that sound, people cheered and waved their flags about in the air, as Gordon came around the bend for the people at the station to see. His funnel blasting white steam out into the sky, the thunderous puffs, and his wheels gracefully went along the rails with two, special coaches smoothly coming along. His new, blue paint work was darker, he wasn't wearing the usual red lining anymore, more of the lining that North Eastern engines wore. He was wearing two flags on each end of his buffer just like the others, but a huge plank with two lions and a crown in the middle was put in between the flags and dead center of his buffer beam.

Percy blew his whistle, then Peter, then Reginald, then Emily. Soon, all the engines had gave a whistle to Gordon as he proudly came to a stop right next to Edward.

"Hello Gordon!" beamed Harvey.

"...Weren't you supposed to... never mind," said Gordon.

People waited for Queen to step out, but she didn't. The Fat Controller, who had his best suit on, was beginning to get worried. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"Molly is coming in soon sir," replied Gordon, "she was given a repaint too, and wants Molly to be here once she gets out. Pacific demands from her majesty herself."

Both the Fat Controller and the general of Sodor Royal Forces stared at each other. Then another whistle came, crowds cheered on and Molly came around the corner, with a beautiful coat of paint, resembling the one from the Great Eastern Railway. James' mouth went wide open and she came to a stop right behind the train.

"Paid money for this occasion and for her reward," whispered the general to no one in particular. "Worth it."

Molly gave another blow of her whistle, and a few seconds later, the doors of one of the carriages opened, and the queen stepped out of it, standing tall and her head held high. The Fat Controller, the general, the governor of Sodor and Wilbert, who stuck back over, all bowed their heads and took off the hats in respect.

"Welcome ma'am," said the governor, "it is quite an honour for you to come to our tiny island."

"Island, yes. Tiny, for what it has brought to the mainland with it's aid and happiness to children, I think not."

Wilbert smiled proudly at an implied compliment to his books, as the other three all thanked her and did their introductions first.

Eventually, after a few minutes talking, the Queen asked to see the other engines. "Peeeeeep!" whistled Percy and even Toby, who could hardly contain his excitement too. "The Queen is coming!"

"Shhh," said James and Henry from in front. But Toby and Percy didn't care, nor listen. All the engines were greeted by her majesty, with compliments and encouraging words. Even Reginald blushed after the Queen went to talk to Whiff. Peter, who was the only one who saw the whole thing, decided not to tell anyone.

At last, the Queen left and Molly got out of the way for Thomas to shunt the coaches, she came up to James.

"How do I look?" she asked confidently to the red engine.

"That you know he's going to say something cringy."

Molly glared at Henry, who wisely subsided.

James gulped. "Stunning," he all but squeaked. Henry laughed and then met a wheesh of steam from the red engine himself.

Thomas was about to leave with the coaches and Gordon in tow. But the Fat Controller stopped him. "Um... Thomas," he said, "I like to say that you can have your branch line back now. Once the Queen leaves of course, and then you can go back with your coaches as soon as you're ready. That is all, good day."

He hurried off, leaving Thomas smiling. "Well that was expecting," said Harvey, "unexpected for him to say it now though."

Thomas laughed, like he hadn't done since his accident at the lead mines. He took Gordon and the coaches away with glee, as people waved and cheered at the tank engine.

*

Two days later, the Queen left.

Not all the engines went to see her go. But most of the people still watched her leave with the same enthusiasm as their welcome. The Queen smiled and waved as Percy whistled so loudly that the Fat Controller covered his own ears. Gordon pulled off later after Edward, Molly soon after too.

Percy then looked over at Thomas, as he backed down onto his coaches. Ready to return to his branch line.

"Good luck with Toby," warned the small engine, "he's been nagging at me more than usual."

"That's because you're new to working on branch lines," grinned Thomas, "trust me. If you ever get a branch line of your own, or even help work on my line. I'll teach you the ways of my predecessor."

"Who was yours?" asked Percy.

"A weird looking, but great coffee pot," smiled Thomas. There was silence after that.

"Shame that the Queen didn't thank you for shunting her coaches for you," Percy spoke.

"Oh but she did," chuckled Thomas, "came to see me before I shunted Gordon and the coaches into the platform. She's thanking the other three once she gets to Carnworth, where another engine will take her on."

Percy groaned, as Thomas pulled off with his faithful carriages, and even though he was still cocky and cheeky. He felt much happier. Not just for getting his branch line back, but for Gordon the big engine.

*

"I am truly sorry sir."

"Sorry is not enough!"

"But the train belonged to the North Western engines!"

"It belonged to me! I wasn't even allowed to go to the welcoming of the Queen by the board of directors for apparently, 'disagreeing with a head chairman of a railway region'!"

"That's a pity."

"It is... for you Ava."

"Pardon sir?"

"For your disobedience to me, No.4073 will be returning to Sodor for being loaned to the facility known as Sodor Research. Apparently, they are wanting rail connections for their supplies need to come in by the tones then just roads. You'll be tasked with getting these trains up to a town called Arlesburgh after the line is restored and there you'll stay until the research facility is done with you. Do I make myself clear?"

"But sir-!"

"-DO. I. MAKE. MYSELF. CLEAR?"

"Y-Yes sir."

"Good, you'll be leaving in a few months. Exactly I don't know when. Good night."

The head inspector walked away from the 4000 class. Who almost looked like she was about to tear up. With her mouth trembling, and water filling the bottom of her eyes. Underneath a looking light post. I knew this was so much detail.

Because I was there...


	32. Ep30: Stand-Off

~1955~

Two years, has Ava been apart of working on the Sudrian parts of the railway. She spoke a lot, didn't mind her punishment, and enjoyed listening to others. Peter took special interest in her, and Ava even said that she enjoyed life here more than she did back in London. I wouldn't blame her.

She is an old friend going back from when I die say came to Paddington. So let us begin our story.

Peter and Ava were laughing one morning. Ava was telling one of her stories to the 8F from back in London.

"And then, and then," grinned Ava, "he slid across the rails so much that he collided with a heap of coal!"

Peter almost choked from laughing. "That's," he said, "that's hysterical!!"

Ava gleamed in pride. "Thank you," she replied, "now, tell me something that will make me think the same thing before I came here."

Peter's face dropped for a second. "Well...um-well," he stammered, "there's this one time in 1952, when the first few weeks when I arrived here, Henry blew his tender up."

"Mmmh," replied Ava, not knowing that Peter had finished. The sound of a tug's whistle luckily saved the 8F from an awkward position.

"Hello there you two," said a posh, sounding voice.

"Top Hat!" exclaimed Peter, "hello to you too!"

Top Hat stared at them for a second with suspicion. "Have you seen Percy?" he continued, "he's suppose to bring some empty cans for me three minutes ago. It is rare for him to be this late."

"Well, he has been getting a lot of extra work recently," Ava replied, "he most be backlogging."

"Mmm, he most be so," scowled Too Hat.

There was a peep, and Percy soon came running in with the empty vans Top Hat needed. He looked quite worn out.

"Well it's about time you showed up!" called Top Hat, as Percy came to a stop nearby. "What kept you?"

"Coaches..." replied Percy, who was completely out of breath. "...tight...schedule."

Top Hat huffed. "Better make sure there isn't a tight schedule then," he said indignantly, "hurry up now! Otherwise I'll be late too."

Percy groaned and followed Top Hat to where the vans were needed. Peter sighed as he watched them leave.

*

Percy was overworked.

He kept going backwards and forwards, to the harbour and shunting yards, then to the station and coach shed. Both separated by the town of Tidmouth.

Henry, Gordon and James didn't much to help either.

"Collect my coaches now, otherwise I'll be late. And it'll be your fault,"

"Shunt my trucks, I'm not going near those dirty things."

"Come now Percy, I need my coaches to be shunted out of the station. Trucks aren't as important as grand, express coaches. Now of you pop! Otherwise passengers will be upset by the sitting coaches."

Percy felt terrible in the evening. All the orders and bossing about by the bigger engines. They barely even helped in with shunting their own coaches!

Two hours after the others finished there's. Percy was finishing off his work. He then heard a formal voice. "Hello Percy."

Percy does recognise the voice. But hadn't really been adjusted coming from the man in the top hat that was once the first Fat Controller.

"Hello Charl-I mean sir!" said Percy, quickly avoiding the controller's real name.

Sir Charles Hatt chuckled. "Even after a fortnight, you still cannot believe that my father retired."

It was a few weeks prior. But Sir Topham Hatt has announced that he would be retiring from head controller and full time being a part of the railway. He still comes in now and then, but isn't in his usual suit. Having more than his usual overalls when he didn't work whilst being controller. But being the controller of the railway for almost half a decade did leave some effects to the engines. This was the first time a switch of controller had happened on the North Western.

And then came the son of Topham Hatt. Sir Charles Hatt.

Charles has been working hard to come to the top. Even becoming the head chief at the works for a time, before secretly start training with his father almost a few months ago.

Even though, most of the engines weren't expecting Sir Topham Hatt to retire at this time.

But now Sir Charles Hatt was the new Fat Controller, and this time, the Fat Controller knew he had that nickname, and he laughed at that. Charles was less strict, but like his father, had a no nonsense attitude. But that'll come in much later.

"I've heard you've been working harder than usual," said the Fat Controller.

"Yes sir, I have sir," replied Percy, "I can't keep up with the work sir. There's been such an increase lately and I think it's going to stay."

"I think so too," sighed the Fat Controller, "so I've decided to do something about it."

"Like what sir?"

The Fat Controller grinned widely at the small engine, and explained to Percy what he was doing.

*

"Do you what?"

"What?"

"Do you know what?"

"Silly," grunted Gordon, "of course I don't know what what is. If you spill it out, I will know!"

"The Fat Controller is bringing in a stronger tank engine to help me with the workload," informed Percy proudly, "after all, the work has increased and it won't be going down anytime soon."

"Rubbish!" snorted James, "if you'd work more and chattered less! This yard would be a sweeter and happier place."

Percy grumbled crossly. "What do you mean by that?" he asked crossly.

"He means," replied Gordon, "that you need to go and fetch our trains. Now be off!"

Percy scampered away. He was cross, as he fetched the coaches for Gordon's express. "After that signal incident," he said to himself, "they think I'm a silly little engine and they can order me about. But I'll show them not to order! I'll show them!"

But he didn't know how, and no matter when the chance came. Gordon, Henry and James would always leave the station or yards with smug looks on their faces.

By the end of the day, Percy was even more tired than before. With shunting some coaches for Henry to take to the other end of the line. The Fat Controller was there.

"Cheer up Percy," he smiled, "you looked tired out!"

"I am sir," replied Percy wearily, "I don't whether I'm coming or going. I can't even tell if my boilers on the tracks and my wheels pointing up to the ceiling!"

"You look the right way up to me!" laughed the Fat Controller, "I have some news for you. The new engine will be bigger and stronger than you. He is capable with doing the work here. After all, he has a good career with being station pilot."

"Like what sir?"

"Well, when he comes here, he has the privilege to tell everyone that he use to be the head station pilot at Paddington station," told the Fat Controller.

"Paddington sir?!" exclaimed Percy, hardly believing his funnel. "How did you-"

"Let's just day I have a very persuasive voice," chuckled the Fat Controller, "now of you go. Once you've done your work, you can get cleaned as a reward for your work."

Percy ran off happily. He couldn't wait to tell the news. Percy later told Ava and Peter about the new information he received later that night. Peter could've sworn that Ava was trying to hold herself down from the excitement.

"I knew a few station pilots back at Paddington," she said right after Percy had finished, seeming like she was waiting to say that for a while. "Do you know what number plate he mentioned Percy?"

"Sorry," replied Percy, "but I didn't think to ask. We're you close friends with them?"

"Eh, a few," said Ava, "one in particular though, I knew quite well. He has no nonsense attitude and would work himself 'till his boiler explodes to get the job done. But he does talk a lot about-"

"What's this about Ava dear?" Gordon backed into the shed right next to Peter. His snobbish attitude rising once more. Ava explained civilly, and by the time she finished, Gordon didn't look impressed.

"I don't know why we need another tank engine to help around here," he said.

"But I won't be here once I've explained to the new engine in what to-"

"You? Going somewhere else? What a load of cinders and ashes!" chortled Henry, as he came into a birth.

Percy went red, whilst Peter groaned crossly.

*

Charles sat in his office, well, it used to be his father's. But I think you all ready figured it out. He sighed crossly, this job was a lot harder than he first thought, he found out. He had gotten a complaint from Percy's crew that Gordon, Henry and James had been ordering the small engine about the yards.

'Gordon was doing so well with his behaviour too,' thought the controller crossly.

He heard a knock on the door. "Come in!"

The door opened to see, an ageing man with overalls coming into once his old office. Sir Topham Hatt looked around the room pleasantly, then turned to his son.

"I've heard that you're getting a new engine," he said.

"Yes," replied Charles, "number six has been getting it hard recently, so I'm sending him to Thomas' branch line whilst the new engine will take his place."

"Hmmm," hummed Sir Topham Hatt, "is there anything else I've need to hear?"

"Well," said Charles, "three of our own mainline engines are currently making number six be there little chaperone with them ordering him about the yard."

"Well then," said Sir Topham Hatt, "you will have to settle that nonsense then!"

"Not at the moment."

Sir Topham Hatt stared at his son. "Why?" he asked.

"Because," sighed Charles, "I'm busy with figuring things out on whether to change this or that! With getting that new engine here! With making sure those engines from the mainland still help us with the extra work such at the 8F!"

"But the engines-"

"The engines are the least of my worries."

"They should be at the top actually."

Charles looked up from his desk to his father who sat down on the guest chair. Sir Topham Hatt moves slightly on it. "Never thought I'd been on this chair in this room," he chuckled.

"What do you mean by top?" demanded the Fat Controller.

"It's simple Charles," said Sir Topham Hatt, "you need to give the engines trust, order and loyalty."

"Wh-What?"

Sir Topham Hatt sighed and repositioned himself on the chair for a second time. "You'll be giving them a lot of doubt whether you'll be like this all the time. Stuck in your office, never coming out unless exactly needing to. But your engines need to see you in person a lot, to know that you care, to know that you're still running the railway and not some strange man wearing a suit, a smirk plastered his face. Order, to show who's railway it is and no nonsense is allowed, whether putting them out of commission for a few days just to teach them a lesson on not to foul around. Lastly, loyalty is the highest you must get Charles, when an engine is given a controller or manager, you must as well give them loyalty, and they'll give it in return. You have to, so they'll run the railway just to please you, and you must treat them with care."

"So how am I doing with all three?"

"Not to good on trust and order, loyalty is halfway there, but overall, you're not doing great."

The Fat Controller groaned and sank to the back of the chair. "What shall I do then?"

"I don't know, Charles," shrugged Sir Topham Hatt, "it's your railway!"

The Fat Controller was about to respond, when his father got up from his chair. "Well, I best be off now, good luck with the new engine!"

He began to walked off. "But father!" called the Fat Controller, "what do you mean! Father!"

But Sir Topham Hatt, only closed the door behind him. The Fat Controller fell back into his chair once again. Trying to figure out what to do.

*

Later that day, the Fat Controller decided to go and do what his father told him. He watched the engines do their work at the station, with them coming in and out. Or they're going past to the goods yards behind the station. He then saw Percy, bringing some coaches into the platforms for the past train of the day.

"Hullo Percy! You do look tired."

"I am sir," sighed Percy wearily, "I don't know whether my wheels are my funnel and dome! And vice versa!"

"You look the right way up to me!" chuckled the Fat Controller, "listen, the new engine will be bigger and stronger than you and could manage the work alone. A new harbour is being built as well as the station at Knapford being moved over the river to other side. Can you help with doing the operation? Thomas and Toby will be there to help but you'll be the main engine for this task."

"Oh yes sir! Thank you sir!" peeped Percy, he felt much better.

*

The Fat Controller waited patiently at the sheds. The engine had been cleared past Vicarstown, and was last heard from the signal box at Knapford junction. Now, all the Fat Controller could do was stand and seek from the distance a Great Western tank engine. It was a foggy morning too, so it was pretty hard to look out to the other side of the yards.

Then, from within the entrance of the yards. Came a whistle the Fat Controller recognise as Great Western, but it wouldn't be Ava's. For coming, backwards down the track was a Great Western pannier tank engine. A 5700 class, which was quite popular to see in the GWR.

The engine came to a gentle stop. Trying to make an impression, the Fat Controller beamed as he looked up the engine who tried to look impressive as possible.

Me.

"Ah you finally got here at last!" grinned the Fat Controller, "I was beginning to thing you got lost!"

"Me, lost?" I scoffed at the thought, "beg pardon sir, but us engines never get lost."

"That's good to hear," replied the Fat Controller, "what's your name?"

"Montague sir," I said, "but, I'm usually called Duck! I don't really sir, but I prefer it to Montague sir!"

"All right then," smiled the Fat Controller, "Duck shall be your nickname."

I looked over to see a light, green, saddle tank engine roll up next to me. He gave a peep of his whistle and looked at me, seemingly impressed by my size compared to his.

"This here is Percy," introduced the Fat Controller, "Percy, this is Duck. Please show him the yard and teach us our ways."

"Come in then!" called Percy, as he rattled off. "We don't have all day!"

A smirk crossed my face, as I followed. Even after we met a few seconds ago, I liked Percy all ready.

*

Percy showed me the yard, coach shed and station and we soon set to work. Even though I was firm with not letting the Great Western slide off with all their teachings at Paddington. I still had to adapt to my new surroundings, and I got some tips off Percy with handling the coaches and trucks. I even gave Percy back a few lessons I learnt back at Paddington.

I would soon meet the mainline engines, called Gordon, James and Henry. But instead of getting warm welcomes to their railway, I could hear them whispering behind my bunker. Then the next thing I knew, Henry and Gordon wheeshed my from each side.

Both laughed as I coughed from their bitter smoke. James then whooshed past me. "You'd better organise my goods train for me! Otherwise our controller won't be too happy!"

I rolled my eyes, almost getting them to look at my inner smokebox, the three big engines puff away. Percy was cross, as he ran up next to me.

"They shouldn't dare do that!" he exclaimed, "especially to a newcomer!"

"Don't worry," I said, "they'll get tired of it... eventually."

But in under the next hour, more and more orders came from the three of them. I was getting sicker and sicker by it every time. I then noticed Henry puff away from Percy who looked like he sulking. I came up to him.

"What was that?" I asked.

"They order me about all the time they do!" Percy replied sulkily, "they have no respect!"

"Do they, usually do this?"

"Well, it's been going on for a while now."

"Tell me, are they, your friends?"

Percy pondered. "They are, they're just up in the clouds at the moment. I think all of British Railways is getting to us."

He looked all over. I too, was scruffy looking, with the BR emblem stamped on me. Even though, most of the grease covered it all. I then thought of what Percy had just said, then remembered what the older tank engines did back when I first came to the Great Western terminus.

"Then let's bring them back down to earth, shall we?" I smirked. Percy put on a curious look on his face.

*

Thomas came coasting into the station. He waited for all his passengers to be let off. He was uncoupled, and moved off to head to the yards, where he could refuel, and head back to his branch line with his carriages.

He headed past the station, along the small section of track that leads to the depot and sheds. He furrowed his face, as he heard booming whistles come from the distance. They were getting louder, and louder, and louder. Then round the bend he went and his eyes widen to see Gordon, Henry and James whistling furiously at Percy and I.

Us two were refusing to move over the points so to let the others in. Peter was right in the shed, watching with interest whilst workmen tried to ignore the sounds and yells. Whilst all the engines crews that were involved were talking with each other on the ground, trying to sort things out peacefully.

Thomas just stared at me, not knowing who I was and why I was here in the first place. He came to a stop behind Henry, and right next to him was Ava, who remained quiet.

Until she saw Thomas. "Oh! Thomas, I don't see you there!" she jumped.

"...What's going on?" quizzed Thomas, as the rampage of the engine's whistles continued on. Not knowing he was there.

"Percy and Duck are having a protest against those three," explained Ava, "Duck loves to have a fight with others!"

Perhaps Ava should've said better wording there, since Thomas took completely the wrong way. "Who's this... Duck?"

"He's the new engine the Fat Controller brought so to do the heavier work here," replied Ava, "did he not tell you that?"

"No... he did not."

"STOP THAT NOISE!!"

Whistles stopped blowing, engine crews stopped talking, cleaners stopped cleaning Peter. As they all looked down at the Fat Controller. He looked quite annoyed from the looks of things.

"Gordon?"

"They won't let us in!"

I was hoping he wouldn't be like my previous manager who he'd jumped to conclusions too much.

And my hopes came true as he turned to me and asked.

"Duck, explain this behaviour."

Alright, I've got to admit I was expecting him to be less demanding. But I would take that as hope for a better controller.

"Beg pardon sir," I began, "but I'm a Great Western engine."

"No shit."

"HENRY!"

"We do our work without fuse," I continued on, gaining courage as I did. "But begging your pardon sir, Percy and I would be glad that you would inform these urm... engines. That we only take orders from you."

James and Gordon were so angry that they blew their whistles hard enough to almost break them off.

"SILENCE!!!" snapped the Fat Controller, he turned back to me and Percy. "Both if you two have done excellent work today in the yards. But I'm not pleased with your behaviour this evening. You have caused a disturbance, but just to the railway, but to the residents nearby also. I wouldn't be surprised that I'll get complaints by the end of the week."

Gordon, Henry and James sniggered. I didn't know whether my controller heard it, but I was sure now that he was like my old manager, taking the side of bigger, important, engines such as them.

"AS FOR YOU!" shouted the Fat Controller, spinning his heel round and pointing a finger at the three big engines. "You made the disturbance! I've heard from Percy's crew that you were bossing him about for a few weeks now, especially at a time when you should've helped friends in need! Duck is quite right, this is my railway now. I am your controller and I give the orders! Is that understood?"

The three big engines, were too shocked to answer.

"IS. THAT. UNDERSTOOD?!!"

"YES SIR!!" all three said in an almost perfect unison.

"Good then," sighed the Fat Controller, "I'm hoping you can settle your... tensions, and Male peace by the break of next morning. Goodnight."

There was silence amongst the engines. I found quite awkward now, standing on the points now. "Well um..." I started, barely knowing what to do for a few seconds. "...we... should let you in now!"

"Oh yes of course!" cried out Gordon, "we should... also... get out of your way so to let you... turn around."

"Yes, thank you," I replied. We all awkwardly started to move.

"I think," started Thomas, "I think I should leave."

"You've refuelled all ready?" asked Ava.

"Yes."

I think Thomas came at a bad time for him to see me for the first time. Because as you all know, he and Gordon had a special bond, so seeing this was going to make him feel a bit angry about that hole predicament.

I asked the tank engine one time on how he felt about the ordeal that took place that night. He said he was angry that I put Percy in an awkward position, and how I was being a bit of a fool with having a protest in front of the sheds. But I've got to admit it.

It wasn't my greatest moment on this railway.

*

Percy left two days later. Luckily, Gordon, James and Henry apologised for their abrupt behaviour to both of us. We also asked for forgiveness over our little protest, and we all made up.

I was left to manage the yard on my own. The work never decreased for an average perspective. So the Fat Controller has taken a sigh of relief that me coming him was a positive.

I did my best too, and at sometimes, I'm not going to lie to you. But the work felt easy sometimes!


	33. Ep31: Helicopters, Races & Promises

~1955~

Cold, wet and miserable.

Percy sat on the branch line. With Annie and Clarabel twittering anxiously to each other. He didn't like this at all. Not one bit. The rain paltered down onto his green, saddle tank. Water droplets going down it as quickly as they had arrived.

The small pond of water splashed beneath Percy's footplate, after they had filled up halfway to his wheels.

He sighed and shivered, he was hoping that something will bring hope to him soon...

*

~Two Weeks Earlier~

Percy was enjoying himself at building the new harbour at Thomas' junction. Bringing loaded stone from the top station, and bringing it back down. Toby would help too, but some trains were too heavy for the tram engine, and Percy would sometimes take his trains.

Thomas was pleased with how Percy was getting on at the harbour. He would sometimes visit the place and see how it is doing.

"Great job Percy!" he beamed, one morning. "the Fat Controller will be pleased with how well you're doing here!"

An airfield was built, a few years before I arrived to the railway. A helicopter had come there too, and now whirled about the skies. Mainly going over Percy whilst he worked.

Percy hated it dreadfully. "Stuck-up whirly bird thing," he grumbled to Thomas. "Why can't it buzz somewhere else?"

Thomas didn't say anything. He and Toby has to put up with the helicopter for a while now, and had gotten use to it's loud noise. Percy, stubbornly refuse to.

One day, Percy met the helicopter whilst on his way back to the branch line. A signal was red and he had to stop next to the airfield, right where the helicopter was sitting near the line.

"Hello," said the helicopter, a posh accent that was too much for Percy's liking. "I've seen you around here a lot recently. I'm Harold, who are you?"

"I'm Percy," replied Percy, "what whirly great arms you've got!"

"They're nice arms," said Harold, "I can hover like a bird. Don't you wish you could hover?"

"Certainly not," whooshed Percy indignantly, "I like my Rails thank you!"

"I think railways are slow," said Harold, "they're no use and quite out of date."

Percy's eyes widen. He was about to reply on Harold's rude comment, when his pilot hopped into the helicopter. "Come on!" he called to Harold, "we need to go!"

"Splendid!" cried Harold, his arms began to spin, faster and faster. Wind began to fly into Percy's face, making him loose his air. "Goodbye Percy! I hope to see you quite soon!"

Harold took off to the sky. Leaving Percy fuming down below on the ground.

*

"Ah! There's Ethan," called Percy's driver, as the fireman walked his way through the rain.

"So? What did the signalman say?" asked the driver, as the fireman got into the safety of Percy's cab.

"Well, the rain is apparently going to slow down in a few minutes," replied the fireman, "so if the weather continues to get better, they might send in air support."

Percy sighed miserably. The water was now getting deeper and deeper beneath his wheels, and he was getting colder and colder.

Percy arrived at the top station and buffered up to his train of stone. Waiting for him to take them to the harbour. Toby was also there, this gave Percy every excuse to complain.

"I met that Harold today," he said.

"Oh really?" replied Toby modestly, "how was it?"

"He is the most over-confident, stuck-up, whirly thing I've ever met!" Percy cried, "he says our railways are out of date and not useful anymore. I'll tell you Toby, I'll show who's the one not useful, I'll show him!"

The guard blew his whistle, and Percy set off. Toby sighed as he watched the small engine go.

Percy puffed down the line with trucks rattling behind. He was enjoying his run, and had just gone past the water mill, when he heard a loud buzzing noise.

"Oh no," he cried, "it's that Harold!"

His driver looked up to the sky, who saw Harold hovering across the sky. Then it dawned on him as the helicopter kept on buzzing above.

"He's following the tracks so to have an easy way of getting back to the airfield!" he cried.

"So?" asked the fireman.

"Let's race him!" said the driver, he then switched the control lever, so to he was now in control of Percy.

Percy felt the shift. "Hey!" he called.

"Sorry Percy," replied the driver, "but do you want to beat that Harold to the harbour?"

Percy eyes widen and understood what his driver was getting at. "What are you waiting for!" he cried, "open it!"

His driver grabbed the regulator, and opened with shear force. Percy shot forwards with trucks yelling behind him.

Harold seemed to get the jest of it also, as he too, picked up his speed and began to follow the train.

The race was on. The guard cheered out of the brake van, whilst the trucks rattled and screamed.

"COME ON! COME ON! COME ON!!" cried Percy to the trucks.

"WE DON'T WANT TO! WE DON'T WANT TO!" yelled back the trucks.

Percy had never been allowed to go this fast before, and his wheels whirled around with excitement. With his pistons pounding the rails.

Whilst Harold hovered above, almost neck and neck.

The fireman shoveler coal for dear life, as Percy neared the harbour. "Peep pip peeeeeep! Brakes! Guard! Please!"

The guard responded with applying the brakes hard on, and Percy's train began to help the small engine hold back as he rushed off the branch line and onto the track towards the harbour.

But Percy's driver didn't realise that he was braking too early, and quickly opened the regulator so to get Percy to the harbour without stopping too early. This made the train go a crawling pace as they entered the harbour.

Percy groaned sadly as he came to a stop at the unfinished harbour. "Oh dear," he said, "I'm sure we've lost!"

His fireman got up onto Percy's cab roof and looked up to the cloudy sky. He then shouted loudly to all the harbour. "WE'VE WON! WE'VE WON!! HAROLD'S HOVERING OVER THE AIRFIELD! HE'S LOOKING FOR A PLACE TO LAND!!"

Percy was so thrilled that he would've blown his whistle. It was lucky to the crew and workmen that the control lever was switched for the driver to move Percy instead.

*

The rain became lesser and lesser, the skies became lighter and lighter. And Percy sighed in relief, as the water almost crept into his cab.

Then, the fireman returned from another walk in the rain. "The airfield is sending Harold!" called the fireman, "they will be here in a few minutes!"

Percy groaned. Not him, anyone but him.

*

~A Few Hours Earlier~

"I won't be here when taking them back," said Thomas, "can you take them back to Ffarquhar safely please?"

"But why can't you?" asked Percy curiously.

"I'm at Tidmouth again, apparently a storm is coming and I'm needed to help the Great Western tank engine with making sure this weather won't damage the place."

"Ahhhh."

"Plus," whispered Thomas, trying to sound so low that only Percy could hear. "I'm not a fan of children."

Percy chuckled. "It's pretty obvious isn't it?"

Thomas scowled as Percy puffed off.

Percy found it amusing and headed back to the harbour to finish shunting his goods train he had brought in at the junction. The station had been completed, now it was only the harbour.

But once again, Percy had to stop whilst exiting the harbour with a train of empty wagons. None have spoken, even after the race. But the pilot had with the crew, and had confirmed they decided to race against Percy back to the harbour and the railway engine won by a few seconds.

"Hello Harold," greeted Percy.

"Hullo," said Harold, "so about that race you do say there was."

"That was a race," scoffed Percy, "your pilot confirmed it to my crew, who told me!"

"Nonsense!" Harold denied instantly, "you made me look like a fool! If I were to properly race you, I would've landed ten minutes ago before you even arrived at the harbour!"

Percy wheeshed steam angrily. "Just admit Harold," he said.

"Admit what may I say?"

"That you were wrong about railways being out of date, and no use at all!"

Harold stared at Percy for a while. "I-I don't think I can," he replied, "cause your win wasn't a proper win-"

"For crying out loud!" shouted Percy, with a groan in his voice. The signal went green, and Percy rattled away. Harold being left awfully confused on what to do now.

*

The sound of buzzing could be heard from up in the air. Percy looked to the sky, to see Harold. "Bother," mumbled Percy, "he's come to laugh at me."

Something thudded on Percy's boiler. Percy squeaked from underneath the parachutes. "Ouch!" he cried, "he didn't need to throw things at me!"

His driver unwind a parachute at Percy's front and laughed. "The airfield his supplied idea with drinks so to keep the children warm!"

"But I'm keeping them warm!" hissed Percy.

"Well, making them get warmer."

They all had a warm drink, and by the time the driver and fireman finished there's. Percy was full of steam.

He whistled with delight. As his driver made sure that he didn't go overboard with moving off. The water splashed his wheels, it got up to his ashpan. Percy wished it didn't, feeling the cool, mucky water come up to him. He shivered, but kept on going.

"I promised Thomas to get these children on!" he exclaimed, "I must, I must, I must!"

It felt like ages, but eventually, Percy managed to drag himself out of the water with Annie and Clarabel right behind him. They soon reached the top station, and by then, only a few black and white clouds dotted the blue sky.

The Fat Controller was waiting at the platform, and the vicar came out to see Percy. "Thank you very much!" he exclaimed.

And the children cheered, as Percy beamed.

*

The next morning, Percy stopped by the airfield again. Harold was resting in the air pad, and heard the small engine. He opened a resting eye.

"Hello," he all but said.

"Hello Harold," Percy replied.

"Listen, Percy," started Harold, "I'm sorry for being so arrogant to you when we first met, I thought that your railways were slow and out of date. But then when you beat me in that race... I guess I was too stubborn to admit that you still had a place on this world."

Percy smiled. "Thank you," he said, "I'm sorry too for being a bit harsh on you."

Harold smiled. "Guess that's it then."

"Indeed."

"Unless we could have a race again?"

Percy smirked. "Oh please, even if you would win, I still have the bragging rights for the first race."

"When were there bragging rights?"

"Always."

"There was nothing to win for the race!"

"Yes there was."

"No there wasn't."

"Oh there was!"

"You're insane."

"I-YOU-I INSANE??!!!"

And that was the start of a lovely relationship.

"Oh shut up Percy."

"LANGUAGE!!!"

"That wasn't even a-"

"I DON'T GIVE ONE!!!"


	34. Ep32: Show The World

Notes:

Story rated 15 for language, violence, body horror

This is a two-parter on Wattpad but became one since I wasn't on a tight schedule

The Midland North Region is the North Eastern region in the real world. This takes place in an alternate universe, so yeah, enjoy anyways!

~1955~

It was a thrill to be working on the North Western. It was as busy as Paddington, but I didn't mind, I preferred the yards (which were now my own) to be less crowded.

There were a few engines that would visit from other regions of British Railways. Some were mainly from the London Midland region, which was right next to us of course. But some came from different regions such as the Midland North Region and the Eastern region.

But never had I ever seen a Southern S15 pull into the station with a passenger train, with southern coaches. He looked decent enough for an engine such as him. After all the Southern Railway and then, the Southern Region usually pulled passenger services instead of goods.

It was unsurprising for us to have the S15 sleep overnight with us. After all, the locomotive had been travelling without even getting a proper rest from Waterloo. I was secretly impressed myself, even the others were too.

The southerner's name was Waylon, and was a bit gruff from the sound of his voice. But a decent chap none-the-less and told us all about what was going on in the Southern region and London too.

"Those diesel shunters have also been taking some of the older steam shunters jobs too," informed Waylon.

"Really?" said James, "what's going to happen to them?"

"Not so sure to be honest with ya," replied Waylon, "but there's some reports that the board are trying to get the older engines either into retirement, or into smaller services around their regions such as key sides or spare shunting engines."

"Sounds reasonable," said Henry, "I mean, these diesels are new, and they might be more useful than the older engines. And the railway board sound like they're going to change their ways with having steam engines either be put into museums or be spare engines, with their old age, they would be able to sleep through the day!"

"So you were just practising in that tunnel I guess Henry?" teased James, the others chuckled. Henry only glared at the red engine.

"Anyways," chuckled Waylon, "on my here, I met this chap, who said he had been here before."

The engines all looked at Waylon with eager expressions.

"An engine you met in London came here once?" asked Gordon.

"Oh yes!" chuckled Waylon, "he came here back when only a few of you guys were around."

"May I ask who's is it?" asked Gordon again.

"Oh yes, his name...umm... his name..."

The engine from the south pondered off, the others sighed.

"What class was he?" asked James.

"Oh! He was an LNER B12," replied Waylon.

"ALFRED?!"

"Ah yes, that was his name," chuckled the southerner, he then paused. "Had history?"

"Had history is an understatement," growled Gordon.

"He came here around 1922, left three years later," replied Henry, "another engine also came and left roughly the same as Alfred. His name was Simon, and was sent away before James arrived."

"A month after I arrived," continued James, "Alfred was sent packing."

"What about Simon?" I asked, curious by this new information that I was not told.

"Wasn't really a good way to go out on," said James.

"Ugh," scoffed Henry, "Simon was found derailed at Barrow yards, with vans full of illegal weapons and his crew... not in the best shape being scattered across the yard."

"Literally," replied Gordon.

"Do y'know why Alfred was sent away?" asked Peter, who he and Ava had stopped talking privately from the other side of the sheds.

James gave a look at them. "Nobody knows why," he replied, "well... probably Sir Topham Hatt might know. But we barely see him nowadays. Old age gets to the human."

"It's best not to even speak of this at all to him," agreed Gordon, "otherwise the stress might get to him."

Henry murmured in agreement. Waylon wasn't that convinced, but Peter and Ava said no more about it and carried on talking.

I was a little disappointed about this, none of them knew what actually happened. They should really get an answer, but I never talked with Sir Topham Hatt, the first controller of the North Western. I only seen him a couple of times, and only talked with him roughly about four times.

And every time I would see him, he would look more feeble. Even have a walking stick in his right hand, the last time he saw him.

I decided not to say anything else about it all. I continued to talk with Waylon for a tiny bit longer. Then, once everyone was settled, I fell into a deep sleep with the other engines.

*

~1925~

It was right after Thomas had been relocated to the Wellsworth yards, when Matthew, the war engine had punished with shunting duties at the fort, and when Henry had failed with taking the first goods train full of supplies to expand Tidmouth station.

Simon shunted the engine into the yards, where the sheds and depot were being built. Henry said nothing whilst his wheels came to a stop.

Simon twisted his mouth into a smile. He chuckled at what predicament Henry had got into.

"Failure of an engine aren't ya Henry?" he spat out from his mouth. "Just go to that viaduct where that Samson fell."

Henry growled crossly. "Don't you dare!" he said, "you aren't good yourself! With that failure from last week!"

Simon chuckled sinisterly, unphased by what Henry had just said. "Oh Henry, you stupid fool. That was a one time thing that could happen to any engine. You on the other hand," he paused, "you fail practically every week."

Henry fumed, as Simon went away from what he saw, an ugly imposter. He went to the station, where Sir Topham Hatt was, the first man to run the railway, but firstly known as the Fat Director.

"Ah Simon!" smiled the director, pleased to see the engine come in. "I am pleased with your work recently, and for helping Henry earlier was definitely a redemption from your... earlier performances."

"Well... thank you fat-sir," replied Simon.

"For this," continued the Fat Director, unaware that Simon would've called him fat hat. "You'll be put on passenger services. Well done, I'm hoping to see more of this effort in the future."

"Don't worry sir!" grinned Simon innocently, "I do my work without fuse, other than some engines."

The Fat Director blinked, then nodded slowly. "Indeed..."

Simon watched the director leave from site. "Finally," he said, "a proper way to show that dipshit of a manager of how fertilise I am!"

He was so quiet that nobody heard him, but only himself. Simon asked to be moved off by his driver. Somewhere he could rest.

*

"Watch it you!"

"Sorry... I guess."

Adam glared at the tender engine, something was off... very off.

"What on earth did you just say?" asked Adam.

"Sorry," repeated Alfred, "I'm sorry I almost ran into you."

Adam's jaw would've dropped, before he was moved away by his driver, and he continued his way along the mainline towards the Norramby branch line. Alfred watched as he stood right before the junction, with train of trucks travelling behind him through the station and beyond from him coming from Barrow-In-Furness.

He sighed, and waited for the signal to go green. Once it did, he moved off. Whistling as he did so. Along the way, he saw many other engines. He saw Roger, working at Cronk station. He saw Thomas, being trained by Edward with how to deal with trucks.

And he rushed past Gordon, both big engine's speeds were so fast, that both of their winds that they carried crashed into each other smokeboxes, almost like a car. Both growled, and continued their separate ways.

Alfred reached the station, and puffed over to the track which will lead him to the newly expanding harbour, yards and sheds. The station was beginning to shape up with more platforms and a bigger building.

The lines that connected the Arlesbrough branch line stayed the same, and a second line was built so goods trains can get to the harbour or yards.

Simon had to wait on this track before he was allowed through. He then saw the Fat Director on the platform with an inspector. But not a railway inspector, he didn't have any suits that showed he was a railway inspector. He looked more like a police inspector.

Alfred knew it would be rude to eavesdrop, but when he heard the name of some forgotten souls. He had to.

"That's impossible!" exclaimed the Fat Director, "it has been a year, and now you're telling me that-"

"It might sound shocking I know," said the police inspector, "but when looking into some old files, I found it odd that a truck from the front of the train broke it's coupling, when it had only arrived to the railway three days earlier."

"It could've been a very old truck from the Furness railway," suggested the Fat Director.

"I think sir," replied the inspector, "it was even given a new coupling hook a week before coming here."

"Workman's error!"

The policeman sighed, slightly annoyed by all the attempts of excuses the Fat Director was frantically trying to find.

"That's not likely sir," he said, "it can be seen as an accident, but I don't think it was. I believe that the ex-TKELR No.4, Samson, was murdered."

Alfred's eyes widen, he sound came out of his mouth, coming close to a dog squealing. The Fat Director and the police inspector turned to where the sound came from. They both stared at Alfred.

Alfred stared back, but gave a slight chuckle. "Sorry," he said, "driver probably touched something in there."

The police inspector gave an odd look at the B12. "I believe that we'd like to talk about this further in your office Topham," he said, glancing back to the stout gentleman.

"Yes, of course," nodded the Fat Director, "of course." Both of them left to go to the other side of the station.

Alfred watched, he couldn't believe it. Before he could think any further, he heard a voice say his name.

"Alfred? What's the matter?"

The tender engine came back to focus when staring right at Lily. She had just pulled into the station right after the men had.

"N-Nothing," he said, as he puffed away when his signal showed green. Lily was puzzled.

*

"And that's when I told him, to puff along young Gordon!"

Jane giggled, whilst Glynn grinned at his youngest sister. Suddenly, he saw a familiar shape coming from over the stone bridge to get across the river, to the station. It was an engine, coming in light. Looking like...

"Ah Alfred!" Glynn called over, "I wonder what you're doing coming in so slow! ...And coming into the yards."

Alfred came over the points into the station yards. Coming up to Glynn and his sister.

"Can I talk to you... privately," he said. Jane scowled at the tender engine, Glynn gave her look of 'don't worry, you can leave'. Jane did so. Puffing off somewhere else down the branch line.

Alfred watched her until she was out of site. He then looked back at Glynn. "I've got bad news."

Glynn smiled broadly. "There is no bad, or good news in this world Alfred," he said wisely, "there's only news."

"There's been a possibility that Samson's death was intentional and not an accident!"

Glynn's face looked like it collapsed right there and then. "That is bad news," he said, beginning to think on the matter at buffer.

"Told you!" said Alfred.

"And it's been a year now," said Glynn, "why do have to tell me this now?"

"Because the Director and a police inspector talked about it on the platform at Tidmouth," replied Alfred.

"You were eavesdropping on a conversation?"

"Well... I-I-um... I had my reasons!"

Glynn's lips went back up into a smile. "Well then, you sure did," he said, he then began to think harder on the accident on the viaduct and how the hole process happen to lead to the first dramatic accident to the North Western Railway. It struck him hard, the realisation of one of the main reasons of the horror. He glanced over at Alfred.

"Why do think this is so important?" he asked the tender engine.

Alfred looked startled by the question, but responded anyways. "Because it was death to an engine, the first fatal accident to happen on this railway, and if it wasn't an actual accident then there's a killer still out there!"

"Yes there is," said Glynn, "but that killer might be more important than all of those three reasons."

"Yes I know," Alfred scoffed, "he's a killer!"

"You haven't realised yet," sighed Glynn sympathetically.

"What? What?"

Glynn didn't respond.

"WHAT?"

"...You were delayed with a passenger train that day. Samson was meant to go along the mainline right after you had gone past Kirk Ronan station," Glynn stared at Alfred, who was beginning to get the message, "but since you were so delayed, the signalman decided Samson will go on instead. Tell me, Alfred, what fault did you have that made you be delayed?"

"It was... it was... a day when I had port steam."

"Could've happened to any engine," murmured Glynn under his breath. He gave the tender engine a soothing look. "I'm sorry Alfred," he said gravely, "but if there is a killer, it wanted you instead of Samson."

Alfred didn't make a sound. But responded with his face going pale and his pupils becoming dots within his eyes.

*

Simon slept.

He wasn't used to sleeping nowadays. After all, being busy trying to overcome it, can take a toll on an engine.

He rested in the afternoon sun, well away from the yards. Well away from the station. But close to the mainline, which silence remains for every hour. It was the quietest part of the mainline, after all, it wasn't called Henry's Forest for nothing.

"Fucking clot doesn't even know what steam is," mumbled Simon, as he became half awake by the sound of foxes nearby. The noise was bemusing, but not pleasurable for his smokebox.

"And I thought machines couldn't be prepared for any time of the day."

Simon was now fully awake by the sound of that voice. His eyes flung open and directed them to the two men on the ground. Both in railway uniform, with looks that could even creep the toughest of men out.

"Ah, Dick, Wayne!" he said to his driver and fireman. "How are you two?"

"Well thanks," sniffed Dick, as he climbed into the cab, followed by Wayne. "Was lovely ya know?"

"What wa-ohhh that's right!" Simon dawned, as he remembers what his crew said to him last night. "How was it last night?"

"Y'know," said Wayne modestly, "the men weren't at their best that night. The guys all found it easy."

Simon cracked a toothy grin on his face. "Well that's what I like to hear!" he said.

"You'd better liked it," replied Dick, as he opened the regulator. "After all, forgetting to ask us for half a day. That was pretty fucking stupid."

Simon wheeshed steam, a tad bit insulted by it. "Whatever," he said. Silence fell, whilst Simon rolled backwards and back onto the mainline.

"By the way," said Dick, "someone has found you interesting."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your little... scheme from last year was figured out only three days after the accident on the viaduct Simon," whispered Dick, so to make sure nobody would hear it. Even the crew agreed to be apart of the plot, and being court could leave them to penalty of death. "They approached us a month afterwards and gave us a proposal," he continued.

"...Go on."

"They would offer us security and protection if we would help them," explained Dick, sounding more dramatic he usually would do. "They can make you succeed on what you originally intended to do."

Simon began to think properly.

A L F R E D. . .

"Who are these people?"

"It's actually an organisation... or a cult."

"Oh. Go on?"

"Well they are called-"

*

Alfred came into the Wellsworth yard, the next morning. Looking frantically around. "Edward!" he called, "Edward!"

"What is it?" came a polite sound.

A blue engine, which looked a lot like a Furness Railway K2, appeared from behind some trucks. He came to a stop, and right next to him, came a young, tank engine, with the same shade colour of blue to both Edward and Alfred's.

"I need a word with you," said Alfred.

"It is private matters?" asked Edward.

"Yes, it is," replied the tender engine, looking over to Thomas.

"I find that silly," interjected Thomas, "private wouldn't even be private if you're in a yard... with trucks, coaches, workmen-"

"That's enough Thomas," scolded Edward, "please, go over to the other side of the yard and arrange some trucks. See if you've listened to me today."

Thomas opened his mouth, looking like he was going to speak. But then closed it again, after he paused. He only puffed off in huff.

Edward came up closer to Alfred. "You've been looking very odd recently," he whispered, "I saw you last evening, and you looked like a ghost with how pale you face looked."

Alfred ignored this, and went straight to what he was going to say. "That day when your train hit Samson, I need to know information about it."

The tone of the yards suddenly changed. Edward's face didn't change for a while, but stayed still for that time. His boiler's water went a lot colder when his driver looked at the temperature, and when he did move his face, it went down into a look of fury.

"What about it?" he said, sounding dark that even Alfred knew he was crossing a forbidden boundary.

"I'm sorry to bring it up," said Alfred, "I just need to investigate this."

"...Why?"

"Cause there's something which tells us a different meaning on why and how Samson was killed."

Edward stared at Alfred for a second. "What do you want to know?"

"Before you were picking up the train, who arranged it for you?"

"Roger did," replied Edward, "he always arranged my trains for me before I got ready for the day's work."

"Roger?"

Edward gave a confused glance. "Something is gong Alfred," he said, "you being so... pale, asking questions which in my opinion I don't like, and now saying Roger's name like it's a crime!"

"I-I'm sorry Edward," stuttered Alfred, "but this private business. I would want to tell you but I don't think it's best that I don't tell anyone."

"...Fine then," replied Edward with a grunt in his voice.

"This is one last question, then I'll be off," said Alfred, "did you ever see Roger be... weird sometimes?"

"Weird?" Edward raised an eyebrow. "What? Why?"

"Edward."

Edward rolled his eyes. He wasn't an engine to usually be tested with his patience, so Alfred was doing quite well. "I've seen him friendly and helpful. Only being grouchy a few times. But those are the only times when things don't go as planned," he whispered.

Alfred calculated that. He'll need to talk with Roger then. "Thank you Edward," he said, "I'm terribly sorry for bringing this all up."

"It's fine," said Edward, in a hollow way. "You're allowed to leave now."

Alfred looked up to see a signal go green. He could go and see Roger now at Vicarstown. "Goodbye Edward," he called, and went off, coming out of the yards and quickly onto the mainline.

Thomas came back to Edward. "What was all that about?" he asked.

"Nothing really," replied Edward, "Alfred only wanted to have some answers to some questions."

"What," smirked Thomas, "did he ask if trains have sperm?"

Edward stared at Thomas.

"What? There's something called a joke Edward!"

*

Simon waited at the yards of Vicarstown, afternoon sun becoming evening.

He killed an engine, it felt good. But he hasn't killed Alfred, the actual target. The pathetic fool. He wanted to end that piece of shit. But if he did that, the fat hat could get suspicious on him with having two engines die with only a year apart.

He had to get help. No. He needed help.

Dick and Wayne arrived back to their engine. Who was waiting impatiently for them. "What kept you?"

Wayne growled. "Calm down," he ordered, "you shouldn't have the questions."

"Now, now Wayne," said Dick, more calmly than the fireman. He looked back at Simon, who looked like he was fuming after the fireman's words. "It's called business Simon, you won't know about it."

"It's that organisation, isn't it?"

"...Yes."

"Dick! Be fucking careful, it ain't safe to talk about this shite here!"

"Oh shut your gob Wayne." Dick clambered into Simon's cab.

"What if I knew more about this organisation?"

Dick paused at the controls, and went to look out the cab window. Knowing that Simon's face was hidden from the direction they were facing.

"What mate?"

"I'm wanting to meet them," replied Simon.

Dick and Wayne looked at each other. "Ya sure mate?"

"...Yeah," said Simon quietly, "I'm sure. Tell them to meet me tonight."

He then saw a familiar tender engine come past him. Alfred rushed past him with a train of vans. Simon gritted his teeth. It took every ounce to not bash those buffers of his.

Alfred looked anywhere but Simon. He found too awkward to look at him now. Ever since the day before Samson's death, Simon was always by himself, never coming close to anyone. Not even Alfred the tender engine himself.

As Alfred came to a stop, he saw Roger puffing up to him so to shunt his vans away.

"'Ello Alfred!" he called.

"Hullo Roger," replied Alfred, "I've got a question for you. If that's alright?"

"Nah, it's fine," chuckled Roger, "shoot!"

"That day when Samson died," he said, "you were supposed to shunt Edward's train. Weren't you?"

Roger's reaction to this was almost the same as Edward's. The only differences were that his face changed almost instantly to concern and annoyance.

"Yes," he said, his voice changing tone. "I was to organise Edward's train."

"Was?" Alfred repeated to that word.

"Yes. Was," said Roger, "but Simon offered to shunt the train instead."

"Simon?!"

Roger stared at Alfred for a few seconds. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Can't say right now," said Alfred, "thank you for answering my question."

The tender engine then pulled off. It all makes sense now. Simon being disconnected from all of the other engines, and Alfred included. The way he looked at the B12 was strange now too.

Even his crew weren't the best with socialising with other railway staff.

Alfred puffed off, he needed to speak with Glynn.

*

Simon waited at Henry's forest.

"Takes that long guy for a fuck face man to get here," he mumbled under his breath.

"Shut your gob!" snapped his driver. Simon was about to retort, but then heard the sounds of speeding pistons and the flattering of coaches.

Gordon whizzed past, only giving a sniff at Simon and continued on towards the other end of the mainline.

"Twat." Dick sniggered.

"You love to hate them. Don't you?"

Simon looked over at his driver with face looking like he is talking to a squirrel.

They heard the sound of grass being trampled on and the brushes being pushed aside by hands of legs. Engine and crew turned violently to the sounds.

Out came three men. One in a tight, grey suit, Simon thought it would destroy his inner body parts. The other two were in odd uniforms, black with metal helmets covering their faces, emotions to be hidden away from the outside world.

"Why hello Dick, Wayne," grinned the man in the suit, "wasn't expecting you to call me earlier in the day to have a meeting. In a place I find to be irrelevant to human expansion."

Simon said nothing, as the man in the suit stiffened as he walked to the front of the demonic engine.

"So you're the engine that did the killing on the viaduct?" he said, "most of my men have been talking about you... a lot."

"Yeah... and?"

The man in the suit gave a pointed smirk. "You don't feel any remorse? Any regret?"

"No remorse. One regret," replied Simon.

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Killing the wrong engine."

The man in the suit smiled broadly. "My name is Seth Ferryman," he said, "I would usually shake hands, but..."

He chuckled lightly. "I guess that won't happen."

Simon's face didn't change. He just twitch lightly with his eyes glaring down at the man. Face stern.

"If you're going to work for us," started Ferryman, "mainly for me of course. I want loyalty from you, and effort and good cooperation if you want to join me?"

Dick and Wayne stared at each other, Simon grinned, this was exactly what he wanted. "Understood," he replied.

Ferryman grinned. "Good ."

He clicked his fingers, and his men brought a crate out from beneath the bushes.

"We'll be doing some... upgrades here," said Ferryman, "want complete secrecy with this. Understand?"

Simon's face just looked down, his face still menacingly grinning. "Of course," he said, "who wouldn't?"

*

"It's Simon."

Glynn stared for a moment. Pondering over the thought. "Well," he said, "that makes a lot of sense!"

"Indeed," Alfred sighed, "but after these years of being good friends, he just... tries to kill me?"

"First of all, you were definitely not friends," said Glynn, looking very honest.

"W-W-What?!"

"Allies, yes, but definitely not friends," repeated Glynn, "everyone knew that the engine with the number 98462 was an arrogant, selfish and stubborn fool. With a follower with a number 87546."

Alfred scowled at Glynn crossly, and banged some trucks to the other side of Knapford station's small yard.

Glynn winced. "You also have a temper."

Alfred wheeshed steam, more crosser than before. "Got anything to add to that?" he asked, making words some more pointy and detached.

"Nope," said Glynn, smiling widely, his cheeks going high up his face, "nothing else to add!"

"What am I going to do?" Alfred asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, by getting Simon to the authorities," replied Alfred, as quietly as he could so only the coffee-pot could here. "It's been a month and if Simon catches a hint of the police looking further into the accident that killed a brake van, an engine, and its crew. It's unpredictable what he'll do then!"

"Well, why don't you go and face him!"

Alfred raised an eyebrow at Glynn, his cheeks still risen up by his smile. "Even for Colin that's a stupid thing to do," said Alfred, referring to the ex-Wellsworth Suddery's number one who was usually oblivious to everything.

Glynn only chuckled. "Well it'll definitely make the authorities go after Simon!" he replied, "just try and find him where there's no engines about, and go and biff the engine's tender of the rails!"

"Yes Glynn," exclaimed Alfred sarcastically, "I'll go and beat Simon to death! Totally won't make me a common criminal to Sodor and the mainland!"

Glynn sighed. "And what if Simon beats me to death instead?" demanded Alfred, wanting the

coffee-pot engine to answer this time.

"Well..." Glynn pondered, "at least Simon will be known for his crimes against this island and knowing you as the engine who showed the whole he actually is."

Alfred's face softened by this. Now thinking this through.

"This is my decision," he said finally, "but we'll see what'll happen."

He steamed off, leaving Glynn to pitifully watch him go.

*

"These guns will be perfect," murmured Wayne to the driver. As he closed the crate and began to get out of the van. Both Simon's crew standing out in the cold air at Barrow yards.

"Yeah," agreed Dick, "we'd better hurry up though. Mr Ferryman won't like it if we're late when reaching Brendam."

"Why are we going there anyways?"

"Because it's a town where it's... more subtle than places like Tidmouth."

"The crime rates are higher than Brendam though," argued Wayne.

Duck sighed. "The railway headquarters are there dipshit," he said impatiently, "none of the staff know that a train is coming in at night."

"Ooooooooh."

"Just get a move on and check the train for any faulty hatches on the doors!"

"What are you gonna do?"

"Make sure Simon doesn't get too carried away with that new... thing."

Wayne growled as he went under the buffers of a van and to the other side of the train. He looked along, stopping every time to see if there was any fault to the train. Simon wasn't even near the train, Wayne knew that. So when he was checking the fifth van at the back, he heard a sound of hissing steam.

"Simon?" he called into the darkness. No one replied.

He looked back at the train and then back down the alleyway two lines of trucks had made. There were no headlights in Barrow, so Wayne only had a torch. He didn't know who it was at all.

"Fuck it," he said, and walked off to the sounds he heard within the darkness of the trucks.

"Dick!" he called.

"Hey, keep it down," said an open wagon.

Wayne turned around to look at the truck, then gave him a middle finger, and walked off. The open wagon rolled his eyes, and went back to sleep.

"This ain't funny guys," yelled Wayne, as he went under some trucks, he was getting further away from the train itself. He then found himself on a siding that wasn't entirely full. Only five trucks along. He stood right above a rail, both legs between it. A truck's buffer a few yards before it's coldness could touch him.

"This ain't fucking funny!" he yelled.

He did get a reply then. But it wasn't words, only laughter from the shallow of trucks. Trembling, Wayne's arm shot straight, trying to see further into the night sky.

He then heard a sound, something like metal clashing metal. The low rumble came next. Wayne gulped.

"Stop this!" he cried, nothing responded this time. The only sound was trucks moaning in their sleep, and the rumbling still going on in the dark distance.

The frightened man threw his torch into the cold air. It landed underneath a truck, it's light directly facing Wayne's feet.

He would've moved, he would've. But was too frightened to. Nobody could've predicted what would happen next.

A rusty wooden object, held together with rusted metal came from within the darkness. It slammed into Wayne, knocking him backwards. The man felt the cold buffer on his back all to quickly, as his torso was squished between the buffer and the object which would have felt the same. He died in a matter of seconds, as blood spewed out of mouth and the lower half of his body, staining his clothing. It wasn't long before the corpse's legs came off the rest of his body, and fell onto the grey ballast, staining it further to a darker colour with red.

It was lucky that none of the men from that night saw it, since that was the most horrific sight. But the slam between the two metal objects was heard across the yard. Simon and Dick perked up.

Dick groaned, released a lever and got down from Simon's cab. "Stay here," he said, as Simon groaned.

"What else am I supposed to do... master?" spat Simon mockingly.

Dick growled and ran off into the darkness, having nothing to carry. Not even a torch to light the way. He was fine seeing in the darkness. It was only 1:00 in the morning, not like it was darkness part of the night!

He went further away from Simon's light, until his engine could barely see him with the torch badly touching him.

"Where are ya Wayne," whispered Dick.

He went past the train where Simon was meant to couple up to, and walked off to more lines of trucks. Till he saw a beam of light, under a truck, with a soul out of sight.

"What the fuck?"

He moved towards the light, heading along an empty siding. Towards the light, getting closer and closer.

He was so near it, when he heard a silent clank. He turned around with his instinct on. His eyes glared into the darkness. He could barely see anything, he walked back the way he came. Not noticing what the flashlight was pointing at. He came towards the sound, coming near it. What a mistake that was.

The scream came echoing through the yards, Simon's thoughts stopped dead. He looked through the line of trucks who were now half awake from the sound.

This was just perfect.

*

Alfred pulled away. The crunching felt uncomfortable for him and his crew.

"That isn't right," murmured Alfred, as he looked down at the corpse of Simon's driver.

"How do we know they were even apart of it?" shivered Alfred's driver.

"Oh I know they were on the wrong side," said Alfred, "Simon couldn't move otherwise or be witness by trying to kill me."

"I can't believe it," said the fireman, "we killed two men."

"That weren't innocent themselves," said Alfred.

"Any remorse Alfred?" growled the driver.

"Oh course," Alfred replied, "it isn't right, but it was the right thing to do. I mean, they could've-"

He felt a sharp bash from behind, and Alfred shot forwards. Running over the crunched up man again, painting red over more of the engine's wheels.

Alfred gasped. 'That can't be Simon?' he thought, 'his crew is dead! No engine can move without their crew!'

He reversed to give pay back to the bumper. But nothing happened. He just rolled backwards and out of the siding. He looked around the yards. Most trucks still sleeping, some half-awake, or just dead.

He then looked over the lines that headed further into some sidings. His driver curiously opened the regulator, and Alfred headed after the mysterious engine.

Alfred came to some more sidings, he stopped and looked around the dark scenery. His lamp was taken out so not to be seen, so only the fire's light in his cab was the only thing lighting the place up with buildings of Barrow-In-Furness lighting the background up.

The tender engine stared into the darkness, then, from beneath it, Simon.

Alfred felt the hit hard, going back a few yards. Simon laughed as he watched Alfred regain himself. His driver immediately opened the regulator, and Alfred charged right back at Simon. He kept pushing him a few yards until they were both swept back into the dark sidings. The tender engine stopped, and Simon came to holt a second later, growling like a bear. He charged back at him, but only got out of the sidings to find that Alfred ran off to hide.

Simon sighed, annoyed by this.

"Y'know, that was really good what you did back there, to my crew," he spoke in his twisted manner, eyes almost bulging out of him to see him through the darkness. He began to head back to the other sidings, where Alfred murdered Dick and Wayne. "You should be proud of yourself! After all, no engine can pull of that move with those kind of men."

He looked into the sidings. "You must be asking then, how am I still moving?"

There was no reply, Simon was expecting one, obviously. "Well, I'll tell you my little secret. If you join my big secret!"

Still, no answer.

Simon groaned, he stopped at a siding. Then sped into it, bashing Alfred and running over the corpse for the third time that night, Simon didn't stop until they bashed into the six trucks at the back of the siding. The remains of the top of the fireman falling down off the buffers for the part that made it stick was too crushed to hold it up.

Alfred tried to move forward, to be released by the shear pressure, Simon was too strong for him.

"Well, well, well," smiled Simon, Alfre gritting his teeth at the other engine. "Thought I wouldn't be killing you like this, always thought of it being... on the viaduct."

"Yeah," Alfred growled, "I figured it out some time ago."

"Probably just now by how you're scheme of 'taking me down' went," chuckled Simon, "even though I was initially trying to kill you the first time, I could give you an offer."

Alfred raised a brow.

"Join me Alfred, work with me and we can see how the world would see us. No more nations, no more war, no more freedom."

The tender engine stared into the other's eyes, he sworn he saw red in them.

"This organisation is here to do this task," continued Simon, "just join the ranks of it, and be amazed by how it works."

"What's it called?"

"HYDRA."

Alfred sniffed in amusement. "I'm going to be your pet in an organisation which name is a dumb as a rat? No thank you."

Simon scowled. "Then say goodbye, to your... precious life."

Simon then tried to move. But realised he couldn't, he tried again, and again. Nothing happened. He felt himself go weaker and weaker, until no steam riser from his pistons or funnel.

"Well then," smirked Alfred, "you should be more careful about how much you talk to Engine you're going to kill, otherwise the engine's crew sneakily goes into your cab and destroys the firebox or shuts you off."

"It's the latter!" called the fireman, poking his head out of Simon's cab. Simon glared at him.

"YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH THIS!" he yelled, "YOU KILLED TWO MEN TONIGHT! YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY BE CARRYING ON YOUR LIFE WITH THE DEATH OF MEN ON YOUR BUFFERS!!"

"Oh we can figure something out," said Alfred sweetly, "like I said, I was planning this for a while."

*

The news spread like wildfire. Not only on Sodor, but on the mainland as well. The newspapers were having a field day.

'TWO RAILWAY MEN MURDERED BY OWN ENGINE.'

'ENGINE COMMITS CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY.'

'ENGINE REBELLION RISING?'

'ENGINE FOUND DERAILED WITH ILLEGAL GUN WEAPONRY.'

It wasn't long before Simon was taken to custody by the police and taken away by two engines from each end. They also found an extra lever in his cab, but decided not to deal with now and rather later.

Alfred said nothing, nobody asked and it would remain that way.

Until a few weeks later, when the headquarters were now at Tidmouth and the new engine, James was taking into the works to be repaired and Thomas being given the Ffarquhar branch line.

"I don't believe it!" cried Henry's driver, one brisk and cold morning.

"What is it?" sighed Henry, still half asleep from his sleeping.

"Number 87546 has escaped from the court shed!"

"WHAT?" Henry now fully awoken by the entire thing.

Alfred's jaw dropped. "Y-you're joking right?" he asked nervously.

Henry's driver shook his head and showed the newspaper to the tender engine. Alfred's eyes widen and he started to quiver. Henry stared hard at him for a second, but before he could say anything, he heard the unfamiliar sounds of an engine coming towards the shed.

Then came from the cold mist, was a red engine. Smiling brightly as his paintwork. He came to coasting stop in front of the sheds.

"Hello everyone!" exclaimed the red engine, "my names Jim-I mean James!"

Gordon the big engine raised an eyebrow. "You must be that new engine that crashed a week ago, correct?"

James blushed a deep shade. "Well I-err-y-yes."

"You blithering idiot!" cried Gordon, "thanks to you we don't even have a shunter for are coaches to be shunted!"

"Hey!" exclaimed Colin, "I'm here!"

"You don't count!" Gordon answered sharply.

Whilst an argument arose from the sheds, Alfred slipped away. He had a lot to think about today.

*

"Are you sure about this?" asked the driver.

"Positive," replied Alfred, "he'll be there and I know. It would've only taking him a week coming from Euston, I'm sure of it."

The driver sighed. "Let's hope your right about this, after all, I don't want to come back here at five O' clock in the morning to know that he wasn't there."

He opened the regulator, and Alfred puffed carefully out of the sheds and into the open air. He sneaked through the depot and to the exit to head to the mainline, unbeknownst to him, he was being watched by an engine.

Alfred travelled across the island all night, trying to be sneaky as possible. He managed to get past Vicarstown station, it was silent as like it wasn't apart of railway, but Alfred kept on going until he reached what connected the North Western Railway to the mainland. He stopped at the rolling bridge, and waited.

It began to rain, hard. It wasn't as bad as you'd think with the rain not smacking into the tender engine's face, rather it's wind and water drops on the left side of the bridge to where Alfred was facing.

His driver and fireman shivered a little, luckily having a fire to keep them warm. They were about to give up, even Alfred was to ask if they could leave, but then he heard the sound of pistons pumping and the clattering of rails. He then saw a dark shape, charging through the rain and towards Alfred.

Alfred blew his whistle once, but hard enough to be heard. Almost immediately, the screeching of wheels was heard and Simon came into view, with him going to a rough stop just before the bridge, right on the same line as Alfred.

Both stared at each other from each side of the bridge. One looking calmly, one glaring angrily.

"You bastard can't seem to stop getting in my way," spat Simon, he was wheeshing steam violently.

Alfred just looked him all over, he could tell where buffers used to be on his front buffer beam, but there were none.

"I see the police were having fun with you," he said.

Simon's pupils became dots in his eyes. "It was all your fault," he said darkly, "you couldn't fuck off and leave me be."

"Well, you were trying to kill," replied Alfred, "but I know why you came back here, and I won't let you harm this railway."

Simon raised his brow. "Why? You never cared for them. You never did!"

"Oh but engines can change Simon," answered Alfred, "and you'll never understand that by the looks of things. And besides, I showed the world what you really are! Just give and go back to your cell!"

The fireman got down from Alfred's cab and walked to the building where the controls to the rolling bridge were. Simon didn't notice, too made to not look away from Alfred.

"You. Will. Pay," said Simon and began to move backwards.

Alfred sighed. "Wait till I whistle," he called to the fireman. He then looked back to his cab. "I'll tell you when to whistle," he said. The driver nodded and grabbed firmly onto the whistle chain.

They then heard a powerful sound of an engine taking a runner back to them. Alfred's eyes widen, he never thought he would do something so... so... stupid.

"Wait for it," he murmured.

They got louder and louder.

"Come on."

Simon's shape got more clearer.

"Now!"

Simon's whistle blew long and hard. The bridge began to be lifted up and high. It didn't go so quickly, but the sound of brakes being screeched on and the yells and curses coming from Simon were heard and as soon as the bridge was almost stopping, the sound of an engine coming off the rails was heard with the clanging and bashing of rocks and the splashing of the sea was heard, and the rain poured down the stream, with the waves pushing Simon away from the rails, only leaving a tender behind on the rocks, right underneath the bridge.

The fireman brought the bridge back down to where the rails met again, and he got back into the cab and they quickly set off, back to the sheds.

*

The tender was found next morning, some police inspectors predicted a suicide. Others thought it was madness. Only a few thought it was murder.

Henry never mentioned his suspicions to the police about Alfred. Who would? After all, Simon was confirmed to have killed Samson a few days ago, so why not have him hit karma hard.

Weeks went on, Alfred was getting more bitter and harsher. He wanted everyone to stay away from him. The killing of two men and an old partner had hit hard as well, his mental health was deteriorating.

Sir Topham Hatt, who has changed his name from director to controller, earning the new secret nickname, the Fat Controller, decided that Alfred would be sent away, until he could clear his mind. He always had intentions to bring him back afterwards, but when asked how he was doing on a few months afterwards. It was said that he had been sold off from the LNER, to some other business.

The Fat Controller informed the engines this a year later. Some cared, some didn't, others felt a little disappointed with what had happened could've happened if Alfred had returned. But hopefully, they would never hear of Simon, again.

*

I woke up, with the fire lighter, having my firebox burn the cold air away. I yawn, and looked around the sheds, Peter and Ava has already been lit and waking up too, Gordon, Henry and James snored too loudly, or drooled ashy mess from their smokebox. Waylon was wide awake, waiting impatiently to have the fire lighter come to him.

It would be some time before the crews began to appear, mine came first as per usual, and I left the shed to fetch the first passenger train. I went to the coach shed which was right in front of the station and pulled them into the platform. Henry came eventually and took the train away, I had just shunting Waylon's coaches into the platform and the engine from the south was sizzling nicely in the cool breeze.

"I see you're prepared for your trip back!" I joked.

Waylon chuckled. "I have to be," he replied, "trains need to be kept to time."

"I understand," I said, coming to a holt at the platform. Waylon buffered up to his coaches and later, I helped him get out of the station with a push.

I would never see Waylon again and I don't think you would either in this story, but he was an engine that will give the message on to that tender engine.

The engine who showed the world, of what a monster really looks like.


	35. Ep33: The Spectre Of The Viaduct

~1955~

It was dark evening on Sodor, autumn had arrived and now the green leaves were turning organs and yellow. With the flowers dying out and brown earth fields were seen across the island.

Henry waited next to the first platform at Tidmouth. He was to take the final passenger train for the night before Edward and Gordon's night train services.

The big green engine was waiting at the platform patiently, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hullo Henry! Been a while, hasn't it?"

Henry beamed brightly, his mood shone up so fast that it could beat the Mallard.

"Wilbert Awdry!" exclaimed Henry, "yes of course it has been so long!"

Wilbert chuckled. "Listen," he said, "I'll be taking the train to Vicarstown, so when you get there, I want to have a private conversation with you at the sheds there."

"I wonder why?" chuckled Henry.

Wilbert smiled, but as he got into a coach, it changed to pitiful glance at the green engine.

Henry stormed the island, his speed ever increasing as he travelled along the mainline. He reached the station at the other end of the line just before the moon had risen from the sea.

But when as he was waiting for the passengers to disembark, he saw a London Midland engine with BR green, standing sadly in the old station pilot siding.

"What's up with them?" he pondered. Then the stationmaster came up to his crew.

"I'm sorry about this," he said, "but right now an engine was going to take a train to Glasgow but has failed, you're the only engine available so you'll have to take it."

Henry gaped. "I can't," he said, "I have trains here to look after!"

"I'm sorry," replied the stationmaster, "but right now these passengers need to get to their destinations and with how British Railways is showing the public on how 'reliable' they are, we need this urgently. Don't worry control will have everything sorted after you've returned when you reach the end of your trip."

Henry sighed, and stubbornly agreed. Wilbert was surprised to see Henry back down into another train half an hour, especially one that was heading in the direction of the mainland.

"Sorry Wilbert," apologised Henry, but engines breaking down and all sorts. Can the news wait."

Wilbert looked at Henry, then smiled. "Of course," he said kindly.

Henry smiled back, and with a blast of his whistle, he left the station with a long and heavy train. Wilbert watched with his glasses sparkling under the moonlight.

*

I and most of the other engines were a bit shocked on Henry leaving to go to Scotland for a while. But once being told on why, we understood.

We just continued our daily routines with even not having Henry.

Eagle the midland engine tended to help out on the work whilst the fleet had lost an engine. Even Ava was allowed sometimes encase necessary.

A week later we were still managing to keep the workload going. One night, I was in the yards with Peter and Ava. I was to take a small handful of goods until I reached Killdane, where one of the electric engines would take the rest on down their branch line.

Peter and Ava were just there to see me off and make small talk. Well only one for talking.

"Y'know," started Peter, "that the Americans do this trick or treat things for halloween."

"Really?" I replied, "what's it all about?"

"Well children will go in costumes around their neighbourhood, go around to houses and ask for sweets and all sorts," answered Peter.

I rolled my eyes with a chuckle. "Oh dear," I said, "that would be troublesome over there, just buying sweets for strange children in costumes to take them away!"

Peter laughed. He then looked over at Ava, who had remained solemn. "Ava?"

The western tender engine jumped, she grinned brightly. "You startled me!" she said, "now what were you saying."

I sighed with a faint smirk, lightly on my lips. "I guess I better be off," I said, "I'll see you two later!"

"Yes of course!" called Peter, "goodbye Duck!"

I puffed down the mainline, sometimes stopping unless I was to shunt my trucks into sidings at stations or because of signals, waiting to give the all clear.

I was soon pat halfway and had just gone past Maron station. "I don't need to stop at Cronk," I said to myself, "so you'll just go past and get to Killdane straight away, then a lovely refill of coal and water and then I head my way back to Tidmouth."

I soon came to the viaduct, which headed over a ravine with a reasonable river with hard rocks that any engine, built with the strongest metal, could be killed instantly.

I went around the bend, and headed straight towards it.

Suddenly, the air became oddly cold all of the sudden and the some other reason, it got darker too.

"Did you notice that driver?" I called.

"That it just got darker? Yeah."

I began to head onto the viaduct. But as I did, I began to hear screaming. Yells of horror and oh it was just horrible.

"What is happening?!" I yelled.

My driver and fireman couldn't answer for the sound was deafening their own ears, whilst the twisted voices went down my funnels and bounced around in my smokebox.

"ARGH!!" I came to a sudden stop, not even slowing down, I, going at forty-five miles an hour, just stopped on the middle of the viaduct. I gasped in shock, whilst my crew were taken down to the ground, getting knocked out by hitting my hard, metal controls.

"Rich! Gareth!" I cried. Then I saw something, appear, it seemed to be a red sparks, just coming out of nowhere, in the middle of a viaduct, up in the air.

My eyes widen as more appeared and eventually. The sparks took shape of an engine, it came charging at me. I yelled loudly as he came screaming wildly to me. But when it touched me, it immediately disintegrated. I suddenly felt myself shot forwards, I felt lucky when my driver became conscious and manage to stop only a few miles away from Killdane.

A big, bright red electric engine was waiting in the yards impatiently for me to arrived. I came charging in and came to a sliding stop. Bashing the trucks too.

The electric engine stared. "What's up with you?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said immediately, "just thought I was... late."

"Well you would've," sighed the electric engine, "I thought you would've never make at this point."

"Am I late?"

"No, just in time," said the electric engine.

"Ross," I growled.

"What! When an engine isn't early, they're late!"

I whooshed steam at him and puffed off.

*

I didn't sleep well that night, and kept it secret. But when I came to Knapford junction to give some empty wagons to them, I gave in once Toby noticed something wrong and Percy persuading me.

I explained it all to them, Percy was in awe whilst Toby was unsure.

"That's very... abnormal," he said, "are you sure that's what you saw?"

"Positive!" I cried, "I would never imagined that sort thing!"

"What's all this about?"

I looked over to see Thomas entering the station with his coaches behind him.

"Nothin-"

"Duck says he saw a ghost!" exclaimed Percy quickly.

Thomas laughed almost immediately. I rolled my eyes whilst Toby gave a scowling look at the small engine who blushed wildly.

"A ghost?" said Thomas, getting out of his fit. "Well Duck! And I thought you thinking Duck was a good name! Now you thinking off ghosts! Pah!"

"This is serious Thomas," said Tony sternly, "you must understand, Duck won't think of imagine these things up, and it doesn't even sound like a ghost!"

"Then what was then?"

"Red sparks floating in the air, on the viaduct! It took a form of an engine, it made me... it made me..."

"It made him stop suddenly!" continued Percy, "and he said he was going at forty-five miles an hour!"

Thomas scoffed. "That's nonsense," he said, he then looked over at Duck. "Do you have another train to take tonight then?"

"Yes," I replied, "it'll be going to Kellsthorpe Road though."

"I'll take it then," said Thomas boldly, "let's see if you're telling truth."

Duck watched crossly, as Thomas puffed out of the station to the water tower nearby. Toby sighed, slightly annoyed with Thomas.

"Sorry Duck," he said, "Thomas' ego has taken a rise... again."

I smiled. "It's fine, really," I replied, "I don't think Thomas ever took a liking to me anyway."

I started to head back to Tidmouth, bunker first. Unbeknownst got me, Percy and Toby looked at each other with knowing glances.

*

Thomas the Tank Engine waited in the yards, only Gordon was there to see him off. The two engines hadn't seen each other for a while and it was nice to talk to each other again.

But the news of the red sparked ghost came quickly around the island. Thomas was glad that Gordon also found it ridiculous.

"Duck just finds things boring when it gets quiet in the yards," said Gordon, "he just wants gossip to come around."

"It could hit international," Thomas added, "if he is lying, which would be the case - he should shut up before he get embarrassed by the press finding out he was faking it!"

"Indeed," agreed Gordon.

"But it's true!" Gordon and Thomas groaned as they looked back to the line of trucks.

"All the trucks from that train say it was real!" exclaimed the truck, who had yelled out previously.

"Yeah!" said another, "they all keep saying the exact same thing that waddling pannier is talking about!"

It was a few seconds of a pause. Then Thomas whistled loudly. "Of course! It makes perfect sense!"

"It does?" said Gordon.

"The trucks set Duck up!" explained Thomas, "tricked him! Fooled him! Duck is a bit... delusional."

Gordon sighed. For some reason, he didn't see that as the true reason. I was grateful that he knew I wouldn't believe the trucks, even though he did believe the trucks later on, in a later year.

Thomas had soon left with a smug look on his face. "Wait till a see Duck," he said triumphantly, thinking he had solved the case of the red sparked ghost.

He did the task of what I would've done, with eagerness to get to the viaduct. He even rushed past Maron, almost teaching his top speed.

"Slow down Thomas!" called his driver, "We don't want to get knocked out and be sent for the hospital for the night!"

Thomas sighed, my fireman had been taken to hospital for hitting his head too hard on some of my controls and was still in there, whilst I had a relief.

The tank engine slowed down, but grumbled as he did so. He soon came to the bend before the viaduct. "Here we go," he smirked slyly, "I won't be scared, I'll be brave and bold! That sounds so dumb actually, I'll never say that again."

He focused hard as his wheels spun along the bending rails. Trucks clattering behind, whispering anxiously behind Thomas.

Thomas sighed, the trucks were ruining the silence. He just finished going round the bend now and was just heading towards the viaduct straight.

One of the trucks moaned in fear. "WILL YOU-"

Thomas stopped speaking suddenly. Air had became incredibly colder than before. His driver immediately applied the brakes to slow Thomas down, and put his hand on the control lever so to switch so the tank engine will be in his own control.

Thomas then noticed that his surroundings had became pitch black, only the viaduct was seen. He began to slowly puff across it, he was at a crawling pace now. He looked down the ravine, he felt like if he fell down it, it will be forever bottomless. His driver than switched Thomas to control and the tank engine soon came halfway across.

Then all of a sudden, Thomas stopped. His driver and fireman held firmly onto the sides of cab, none being knocked out. The trucks gasp and cried out in fear.

Thomas began to shake. "Th-there's no such thing as ghosts!" he quavered.

_"Or is there?"_

Thomas jumped. "WHO'S THERE??!!" he yelled.

He tried to move further through the darkness, but he could barely move, even with him under his own control. The driver and fireman ducked down and tried to hide in the cab, in fear of their lives.

_"Thomas, the tank engine! It's been a while."_

"WHO ARE YOU?"

_"Ahhh, you have forgotten me. Shame, after all, the accident I was in should've made you all suffer!"_

Thomas gasped. "S-S-"

He could barely finished as a demonic laugh came echoing through the valley.

_"It's me."_

The sound of a familiar, yet impossible to be heard whistle echoed around Thomas. The tank engine shivered with fear. Then red sparks came from nowhere and began to dance at the end of the viaduct.

"Help!" shrieked Thomas, "someone!"

The sparks then began to form the shape of an engine, then black dust began to cloud the red sparks to give it more of a form.

_"Beware!" _echoed the voice, coming from the engine,_ "for the spectre of the viaduct won't stop, until his revenge is fulfilled!"_

The red sparks and black mist then pounded the rails and charged at Thomas. The blue tank engine watched in horror.

"HELP!!!" he cried one final time, and shut his eyes, waiting for terror he would occur.

But another sound was heard, it sounded like something burst, but Thomas didn't dare open his eyes. But when he did, he was surprised to find himself still on the viaduct, with nothing else on it at all. The darkness soon showed the stars and moon, and the air became less colder than before.

Thomas than shot forwards, just the exact same way as I did. But once his entire train went off the bridge, the momentum stopped and Thomas went back to his crawling pace when he went over the viaduct. But the tank engine didn't keep that speed, and pounced off, not even daring to look back.

*

Unlike me, Thomas didn't dare go back down the mainline the next morning, and refused to move out of the sheds at Kellsthorpe Road. The Fat Controller decided to check his number one engine later on, when he got word that Thomas' crew's family had filed a complaint of the driver and fireman barely even coming back that night. It was found out that they had stayed in Thomas cab the entire night, and refused to move only for keeping Thomas' fire going until his steam would finally die out when dawn came.

"What's the matter Thomas?" asked the Fat Controller, "you looked like you've seen a ghost!"

Thomas looked down at his controller and blinked a couple of times. The Fat Controller sighed. "This is ridiculous," he said, "first Duck, and now you! I can't have engines get scared of some bumps in the night on the viaduct Thomas! We have a railway to run after all!"

Thomas remained quiet and looked away. Some workmen managed to get Thomas' crew out of the cab and took the shaking men to the nearest hospital to be checked over. The Fat Controller left too, he had to keep the railway running and decided that Thomas will stay out of action for the day.

*

The trucks weren't as quiet as Thomas though, they screamed and yelled about it to the other trucks and soon people and engines heard about the events that unfolded that night.

I returned to Tidmouth after midday, Gordon was there, he had just returned from pulling the express and looked cross.

"Where have you been?" he asked sternly.

"Helping on the Ffarquhar branch line for the morning," I replied, "with Thomas not in service today, there'll be some backlog today with only Toby and Percy running the line."

Gordon groaned. "I don't understand it," he said.

"Understand what?"

"Before Thomas was about to leave, he was sounding like it was nonsense! But after the run, he won't barely get out of Eagle's shed! It's not like Thomas to believe in the supernatural."

"I don't too," I replied, "but yet it seemed so... real!"

Gordon then stared at me, suspiciously. "You saw something on the viaduct the night before Thomas did," he said.

"Yes," I confirmed, "I'm confident with that."

"And yet, you were completely fine! Well not totally, you were quiet until Toby talked to you."

"I was," I agreed, understanding where the big blue engine was going. "And yet, Thomas seems traumatised with his."

"Plus all the trucks from both your trains are saying the same thing too," added Gordon.

Both of us stared at each. We didn't say anything else, and went our separate ways until next time we'd meet. But we did know something was up.

*

At the end of the day, Gordon came to pick up Thomas and take him to Tidmouth. His driver and fireman were needed to go to a clinic to have their mental health be regained after last nights horrors and this meant that a relief crew will be taking place whilst Thomas and I will switch places until his crew returned.

Eagle had already shunted Thomas into place for Gordon to push from behind and as the big engine coupled up, he felt Thomas' buffers were cold.

Eagle watched from nearby. "He's been like this all day," he said to Gordon, "he's been resting, but when he has been, he's just shivers and whimpers."

"I see," said Gordon, collection all the information into his smokebox. "Thank you Eagle. I'll take it from here."

He began to push Thomas back to Tidmouth. Eagle felt a little concerned.

*

Thomas began to agitated when going coming towards the viaduct. "It's getting darker," he said nervously to Gordon, the first time speaking throughout the entire day. "Could you go a little faster?"

"I don't think I will," replied the big engine, "you need to relax little Thomas."

"Well I can't unless I'm heading to that hell hole!"

Gordon sighed. "What did you even see there that made you all frightened up?"

"It was him."

"Him?" repeated Gordon, "and who is him?"

"Well who else might it be?" exclaimed Thomas.

"I don't know Thomas, I have no idea!" growled Gordon.

"Well you'll see," replied Thomas stubbornly.

Gordon made the wise choice to subside and carry on puffing towards the viaduct. At last when he got there. He felt a force. He gritted his teeth and winced a tiny bit, Thomas' eyes began to shake in fear.

"Well, here we go," he said to Gordon. Both engines crossed the viaduct. The evening had suddenly darkened quicker but they both could still see the sun going down. The air was colder, but not as cold as Thomas expected. Gordon then felt a force that was making him beg to stop, it was like chains grabbing his wheels and trying to hold him back from moving any further.

The big engine growled. "More power driver!" he yelled.

His driver obliged, and Gordon managed to continue.

_"Ah Gordon, so big, so strong, so proud. You never give up, don't you?"_

Gordon's eyes widen. He recognised that voice, all too well.

*

I was buffering up to Annie and Clarabel, ready to take the train to the top station. I then the power of steam coming from the mainline. I raised an eyebrow, whilst passengers looked too.

The next thing I saw was Gordon shrieking, with Thomas in front. The big engine applied his brakes hard, he rushed past me and came to stop outside the platform. He began to reverse, quickly.

I stared at Gordon as he came to stop right near me.

"I see you're eager for something," I said, it was for a slight joke but Gordon ignored it completely.

"It's all true!" he panted.

"All true?"

"The viaduct Duck," groaned Thomas, his wheels ached from being pushed at full speed from the place he had just mentioned. "He's seen it all!"

"All? It's barely night time!"

"I didn't see it," said Gordon, snapping a quick glare at Thomas. "But I did hear it."

"Hear?" I questioned, "like the screeching and groaning of someone in agony?"

"What? No!" exclaimed Gordon, "I heard a voice."

"The exact same voice I heard when I went across the viaduct," added Thomas.

"I've heard it before," Gordon continued, "he knew my name and I know his."

"Beg your pardon?" I said, "you know this... thing."

"Thing? More like ghost!" said Gordon.

"I don't know why he's appeared now," said Thomas, "but it makes total sense for him to be there."

"Who are we're talking about?!" I cried out.

"...Right of course you weren't hear at the time," said Thomas, he was going to continue, but Gordon cut him off, more frantically speaking than Thomas' semi-relaxed tone.

"He was apart of the worst accidents on the island!" Gordon said, "he fell from the viaduct in 1924 and once ran the Kirk Ronan line before Eagle!"

"WHO IS HE?!" I asked, loud enough and more frustrating for Gordon to actually listen.

"Like I said," he replied, "the engine who fell off the viaduct. Samson!"

*

Whistles and shouts were heard across the yards. Either the whistles from the ex-North Western Railway, or ex-London, Midland Scottish Railway, and even ex-Great Western with my whistle still not been replaced by a Sudrian tone one.

"This is absorbed Gordon!" cried James, "first Duck, then Thomas, and now you! Whatever is this railway coming too!"

"Trust me James," said Toby, "you would be the exact same if you went along that viaduct at night."

"Poh," scoffed James, "you all are just maniacs!"

"Oh shut up James," growled Eagle, "you're becoming very dislikable around here."

"Because I'm thinking this realistically," James snapped, "would you believe it? An engine that died thirty-two years ago comes back now? I mean, seriously?"

There was silence around the sheds. Nobody said a word, all whistle had stopped blowing after James' speech. The red engine groaned crossly, then turned his eyes to Gordon.

"If Henry was here he'll understand that this is a bunch of... of... malarkey!"

"Well this isn't James," said Gordon, "and you won't understand what has happened with us when Samson died that day."

"So... when did he die?" asked Percy.

"1924 Percy-"

"No I mean, what month, and what day!"

Gordon pondered. "I don't really remember," he said.

"October, the thirty-first."

Everyone turned to see Edward puff in. His face... agitated, like he was in an aftermath from all the shock that came to him when it was revealed that the spectre on the viaduct was really an engine from a forgotten time.

He looked around every single engine. "That is the night of halloween, his death day."

"And that's tomorrow!" exclaimed Percy.

"Well done Percy!" called James, "you can tell what date it is!"

"Shut your gob James," wheeshed Eagle. James growled crossly.

"Let's think this the easy way then," he said, "since every engine that works on these parts of the Sudrian rails, of has history with this... hoax! Firstly, it's been more than three decades since his death, why would he appear now? And secondly, demons don't exist, I mean nobody has encountered them at all in this world!"

"Well we did encounter a demon," said Thomas.

"Those were probably delusions!" replied James, "and what about my first reason them hmph?"

"Apparently in London," I began, engine's eyes all staring at me. "That it takes time for a soul to reattach itself. It's said how brutal the kill is, the quicker it shall be. This engine must've had a horrific fate."

"Smashed into a pointy boulder face first," spoke Eagle, "he was cut up on the spot, nobody dared to bother how to do it. The scrappers just cut until the shell could be taken up the embankment."

"The demon must also feel resentment, anger and sorrow," I carried on, "so much for someone that it would power his soul to reattach."

"Well there's an explanation to this," said Toby, "but we just need to know how to get rid of him!"

"We could always try talking?" said Percy.

"Or just get everyone from Vicarstown? Y'know, it's in the name."

"Hahaha, very funny James," said Thomas.

James harrumphed.

"Y'know James?" sighed Gordon crossly, "if you're just going to bug us about this why don't you just shut up and leave?"

"That seems fine to me!" replied James, "anyone with actual sense can bloody well join me if they like?"

No said anything, only flares were given to the red engine.

James rolled his eyes. "Suit yourselves," he mumbled and puffed off.

Thomas took a deep breath. "He surely is in a mood," he huffed out.

"Don't know why he's like that," said Toby.

"Maybe because of his experience in the first world war?" questioned Peter, "we all know he's quite sensitive to those sorts of subjects."

"I honestly don't know," said Edward, "but right now, we have to focus on Samson. Any ideas?"

"Well..." said Toby shyly, "I might have one."

"It's going to be than no plan at all Toby," replied Gordon, who saw under Toby's shyness. "Give is what you think we should do!"

"Thank you Gordon," smiled Toby, then turned back to the fleet of engines at the sheds. "We'll know what vicars do when there's demons about, don't we?"

*

Toby explained the plan to us all, and we arranged ourselves to do that job.

We all huddled together in the shed that night too.

Frighten on whether that Samson would come knocking at the shed doors. James didn't return, probably went to the Sudrian Fort to see his beloved engine. Once it was daylight, we went off to work.

None of us said anything, but I felt the tension and nerves within the air when we were around each other. By evening, Gordon and Thomas were at Vicarstown, Peter also. But the big engines' conversation wasn't what you'd expect.

"I'm sorry Gordon," said Peter sympathetically, "but I just got to make sure she'll be fine."

"Peter," groaned Gordon, "we need you with us. You're the engine that would help us at this time."

Peter sighed. "Gordon," he said, "but as you may have noticed, Ava hasn't been herself for a while. It might even be this Samson that's possessing her!"

"Yes and?"

"Well, well..." Peter stammered, red spread to his cheeks. "I'm just worried about her. Have you ever felt worried about so someone so much, that you can't leave them until you feel they're safe or better?"

Gordon paused, then sighed. "Alright then," he replied, "be quick back to Tidmouth then. We don't want you to get caught on the viaduct tonight."

Peter smiled. "Thank you."

He puffed off, light engine and rushed past Thomas. The tank engine was on one of the arrival and departure tracks, waiting for Gordon to get ready.

He was surprised to see the 8F rush by him with no hello like he usually would. Gordon the big engine came up alongside.

"Where's he going?" asked Thomas, directing his glare to Peter who had just turned a corner and out of site.

"Peter's worried about Ava," replied Gordon, "he wants to make sure she's alright tonight."

Thomas scoffed. "He doesn't hide his feeling to her very well," he said, "and we needed another engine as well to come on him our side of the viaduct too."

"I've actually got a backup engine if either Peter and I couldn't make it," admitted Gordon.

"Really?"

"Oh yes," Gordon replied, "My driver just went to him to tell him and his crew that he'll be joining us."

"And who is him?" asked Thomas, suspicious on how Gordon wasn't looking best pleased.

"We know him," said Gordon, "but we don't have a great bond with him."

Thomas' brow furrowed, thinking on who it would be. He was so focused that he didn't hear the sounds of an engine approaching them. Until he heard the voice.

"Well hello Thomas and Gordon!"

Thomas' face dropped. He looked over to see Reginald the Euston Engine puff up to them.

"It's been a while hasn't it," Reginald continued , "when was the last time I was on this island? Two years ago I believe."

"Yes," said Gordon, "so my driver has told you what we're up against tonight."

"Well of course," snorted Reginald.

"Are you in?"

"Well I have nothing better to do! Then sit with those... dirty branch line engines-"

"Thanks a lot Reginald, clearly not showing how grateful you are on not sleeping in a siding than a shed!"

"I was only here to pull a train to Vicarstown," replied Reginald, glaring daggers at the tank engine. "Then sleep here for the night and go home the next day. Not chase a blooming demon off a viaduct straight after arriving here!"

"You've been here two hour Reginald," signed Gordon, "don't you know how time tables work?"

Before Reginald could reply with a remark, Gordon interrupted.

"Go and find a turntable and turn around," he ordered, "then meet us back here."

Reginald would've said something else, but with how Gordon was looking at him, he decided not to. He puffed off, muttering under his breath. Thomas then looked back at Gordon.

"Him?!" he cried loudly.

"Only engine that's strong enough to not be busy with other matters or willingly help us," replied Gordon, "to be honest Thomas, I'm not happy with the idea either, he's a twat, yes, but he's strong enough to help keep Samson trapped from heading to the mainland."

Thomas harrumphed, and remained quiet until Reginald returned back the other way.

They soon started off, Reginald beginning to ask the question even before they exited the yard to the mainline.

Unbeknownst to them, the familiar engine in red watched them. He sighed and rolled his eyes. He then heard the trodding of stones and looked up to see a man he knew all too well walking up to him.

A little while later, Gordon, Thomas and Reginald were coming time the viaduct.

"So we're on this end of the viaduct," explained Gordon, "and Eagle, Edward and Duck are on the other."

"Why is this unbalanced?" asked Reginald.

"Because Samson will more predictably try and get to the mainland when he could be able to fully reattach his soul and be free from the viaduct."

"Right, who's Duck?"

Thomas rolled his eyes. Gordon sighed. "A new engine, now shut up!"

They rounded the final corner to the viaduct. Suddenly, Gordon felt his wheels be dragged by a strange force. He grunted and applied his brakes. He was slowing, but wasn't supposed to slow this slow!

Gordon braked harder, his driver even considering to take over the controls. But Gordon managed to stop he and Thomas just a few yards from going over the viaduct.

Thomas sighed with relief.

Suddenly, Reginald bashed Gordon from behind, making Gordon skid way further than he should've.

Gordon looked furious. "What are you doing?" he whispered, trying to calm himself so to make sure Samson wouldn't hear them.

"Some force thingy court me and couldn't stop properly," replied Reginald.

"That makes sense but why are you behind us, when you're suppose to be next to us!"

"You never said anything about that!"

"Oh shut up and go back to the nearest points to switch onto the other track. And hurry!"

Reginald grumbled back down the line. Meanwhile, Eagle, Edward and I were all on the other side of viaduct. Seeing Thomas and Gordon arriving gave us some relief, but not being able to see Reginald was a bit worrying.

"Think something's wrong?" asked Eagle.

"I don't know," Edward answered, "but I don't think it really matters anyways!"

I looked at each other, I was right behind Eagle who Edward was next to. "What do you mean by that Edward?" I asked, the blue engine never really spoke like that, it was less... energetic and more sad and nervous.

I wouldn't be able to see his face,band never really asked what was on his face. But he only replied.

"My train was the one that crashed into Samson, I was too careless to-"

"Edward," interrupted Eagle, "you do know that the coupling to the front truck on your train was faulty."

"Yes, but I should've checked, I could've done anything to stop it from happening," cried out Edward sadly.

I looked over towards the sun, it was now being swallowed up by the near by hills and would have gone by a few minutes.

"It wasn't your fault Edward," sympathised Eagle, "don't blame it all on yourself."

A few minutes later, the sun had completely went down. The air suddenly went colder, and surroundings we could've seen from a few yards away, we couldn't. Only the viaduct and the embankment, as well as Thomas and Gordon.

Then the sparks appeared, forming an engine, then black mist came. It covered the red, sparking lines.

There was a bang! We all jumped in terror, as Samson fully showed himself to us. His iris completely black, and his pupils glowed red, at Thomas the tank engine and Gordon the big engine.

_"Hey all!" _he said demonically,_ "nice to see you again."_

He shot forwards at light speed coming straight towards Thomas and Gordon. Both engines gasp in horror. But as Samson was about to get off the viaduct, a clear white sheet of shield blocked him from touching Thomas' buffer.

Samson growled angrily. _"Oh of course, now fully attached yet aren't I?"_

"You know why we're here Samson," called Gordon from behind Thomas, "leave and never return."

Samson cackled a laugh. _"Why should I?"_

"Because you're not wanted here, you had your life, now except your death."

_"Bullshit."_

Silence came among the valley, Samson's red eyes glowed within the darkening sky.

_"A demon's soul can't be unattached,"_ he said wickedly, _"there are a few... ways to do it."_

"Haha, why don't you tell us then!"

Samson laughed harder, his voice echoing out of his mouth.

_"Thomas the tank engine,"_ he said, _"it's been a while, then again, I never really saw you out of your station."_

"Run my own line now," sniffed Thomas, trying not to show the fear within his eyes. "And what's happened to yours? Got given it the day after your crash!"

Samson's smile snapped to a frown. He turned around, and sped to the speed of light to the other side of the viaduct. The clear white shield sparkled as he came a centimetre close to it. He glared at Eagle, right in the eyes.

_"Red bastard managed to get my branch line so quickly."_

Samson looked at Edward, not saying a word, and then looking behind to see me.

_"Ah, you must be that engine I saw from a few nights ago. And by the looks of that emblem on your tanks, I guess the fat hat never learnt on building his own engines."_

"A lot of things have changed since you've gone Samson," said Edward, "it's best if you don't jump to conclusions."

Samson sneered at the blue engine. _"That's lovely Edward,"_ he said, _"now toddle off now would you? I ain't got time for a ghost expert."_

"Your a demon Samson," replied Edward, "now tell me, how are you even a demon?"

_"Like all demons arrive," _replied Samson, "_but it's a lot harder for engines. Imagine how long big blue trying to get his soul back together again?"_

"Yeah," said Eagle, "totally."

_"Now, onto what I want to talk about,"_ smirked Samson, _"it'll only take a few more minutes before being fully completely attached my soul."_

"Then what?"

_"Then," _Samson chuckled, glaring his glowing red eyes at me. _"I'll be free from this hell viaduct! Go and create chaos on the mainland and be-"_

"That's your plan?" asked Eagle, "sounds quite stupid if you ask me!"

Samson was talking about. _"Say that again,"_ he dared.

"You death or something?" sniggered Eagle.

Dark mist came out of Samson in random places. _"You trying to aggravate me?" _

"Nah, aggravating you is like saying dam in front of a vicar," chuckled Eagle, "you were a joke back then Samson!"

We all knew the plan, Toby explained to us that either side must aggravate Samson and make him so furious he would chase Eagle, Edward and I go him and Percy, who were at Cronk station.

And by the looks of things, it was working. Eagle was saying things that made the demon's eyes glow bright red.

"-I mean come Sammy!" carried on Eagle, he pulled a bigger smirk than before at Samson. "How would people be scared when they see your ugly miniature form!"

Samson bashed into the viaduct last shield. _"Shut up." _He all but growled.

"Ohhh, was that a threat!" sniggered Eagle, "you feel really threatening, but by the looks of things you can't even make it out a tiny thin shield!"

Samson yelled a massive roar, similar to the ones I heard when I went onto the viaduct. I quivered in fear.

Edward sighed. "Stop this Eagle," he said. He then looked over at Samson, who was staring daggers at Eagle.

"Please stop this Samson," Edward asked politely, "we can help you if you let us."

Samson looked up and down at Edward and sniffed. _"No one can help me Edward," _he replied, _"but I can help you."_

"Buzz off will ya Samson," scowled Eagle, wheeshing steam furiously. "Nobody even cares about you after a week!"

Samson glowed brightly. The moon shone brightly with the stars to help decorate the sky.

"No one even cared about you, even when you were alive!"

"Eagle..."

"No wonder the cut up your remains on the spot! It wasn't a shame m, it was relief so not to put up with you!"

Samson shut his eyes tightly._ "Shut up!"_

"And to think even someone such a Satin would've given you a chance to be a demon. Such a waste and embarrassment to the demon king himself."

Samson reopened his eyes. This time, his pupils were redder than before, and the middle of them, glowing yellow too.

_"I said. Shut. The fuck. UPPPPPP!!!!"_

Dark mist whooshed out of him, with red sparks being sprayed from all directions with the mist. They all hit the shield, which glowed white every time when it was hit.

I suddenly noticed something. The shield had grown weaker, and now was going to break apart with cracks being seen through like a window.

"Fellas!" I called to Edward and Eagle, "I think it's best that we go now!"

"No!" cried Edward, "What have you done Eagle!"

"Told him the truth," said Eagle, and he began to puff backwards, bashing into me too and shoving myself away. Edward looked back, Samson still screaming out the mist and sparks, he too began to follow.

On the other side of the viaduct, Thomas was squinting his eyes, see the red sparks had caught the blue engines attention.

"What's he doing?" pondered Gordon.

"I don't really know," replied Thomas, "but, I predict, he's trying to bring down these barriers."

"Guess they've managed to provoke him then," said Gordon, he then realised something and began to pump steam into his pistons. "He'll be chasing after them then, and we'll be ready to chase him."

Thomas rolled his eyes and smirked. "He won't know what hits him them."

Gordon grinned back too. "No. No he wouldn't."

The entire barrier broke from the other end, and so did the one on the other side, Gordon pushed Thomas hard and the two of them charged after Samson.

The demon engine had paused, seeming to catch his breath. He would've refocused though, cause as Thomas and Gordon were about to hit him, he shot forwards and after us three.

What we all calculated was that Samson wasn't going his light speed as he did on the bridge. We all wondered why, but we knew he wasn't doing this on purpose, and gladly so.

We all but tore down the line, with Eagle helping me to keep up with the pace, whilst Edward rushed close behind. Samson followed at an unnatural pace to his class basis. Whilst Thomas and Gordon riding behind us all, the big engine not going to his full speed.

"Come on Gordon!" shouted Thomas, "I know this isn't your top speed!"

"Me too!" replied Gordon, "but if I go too fast, your axle boxes will probably be damaged and I don't want that!"

"Well we need to go faster!"

Both engines then heard a familiar whistle that we weren't expecting to see on this night. Gordon's crew looked back and gasp.

"It's Henry!" cried the driver.

He was right, the green engine thundered down the line next to Thomas and Gordon, right where Reginald was suppose to be. He came up to the two engines.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he called, "I've only been away for a few days and there's now demons haunting the viaduct?!"

"Not anymore!" Gordon called back, "now we've got a demon on the loose!"

Henry looked to where Gordon was glaring at. "Is that... Samson?!"

"Yeah, we'll explain later," replied Thomas, "now go on Henry! Show him how you've changed!"

The pistons that belonged to Henry beards harder and the green engine charged after Samson.

*

Toby and Percy were at Cronk station, both on the same line, Toby at front, and Percy at the back.

The two lines switched to a junction with two sets of track carried on down the mainline and the other pair went into a yard. There was also a loop track, so to allow engines to come off the mainline and wait until higher up trains go past them on their line.

"When will they show?" asked Percy.

"Soon," murmured Toby.

They then heard the beating of engines, then the screeching of brakes and I came from within the darkness with my back lamp glowing red as I came to a stop right next to Toby and Percy on the other platform. The points changed, and Eagle came across the junction and stopped right afterward going over it before entering the yards. The points were already set for Edward as he came across them and slowly puffed next to Eagle. Both old engines looked exhausted, with their old age they weren't meant to go that fast. Neither was I, but I wasn't supposed to go up to those speeds anyways!

Once the points were switched back for the mainline, Toby moved forwards.

"He's here earlier than expected!" I yelled to the tram engine.

"Makes the job easier then," replied Toby, as Samson charged through the darkness.

Samson hit Toby. But the reaction for it wasn't what the engines expected, red sparks clashed through golden sparks, and both demon and tram engine went backwards, Samson more from how fast he was going. Both engines remained unscathed, Samson looking furiously.

_"How?"_ he demanded.

"Simple," replied Toby, "get a vicar to make an engine holy to God himself. Well, I joined Christianity now."

My jaw dropped. First demons and now gods and angles.

The rest of us had the same reaction. Samson glared angrily at us all. He being on the same track as Toby was like small old engines going to fight. But it was like that anyways.

Henry then suddenly appeared out of nowhere and came to a jolt right near Samson. Steam hazing wildly from his steam pipes.

"Hello Samson," he said, "yeah it's me Henry, I've changed a lot. You look you've changed too, but for the worse by the looks of things."

Samson then heard and pumping and moving pistons. He looked at all the engines and their crews who were either standing by the engines, in their cabs or on the station platform. He chuckled loudly.

"Good luck on getting me out of him," he all but said.

He ran backwards, red sparks flew out of him and he became mist. Right in front of Thomas. Gordon's speed stopped and he flung right backwards, like he hadn't been going the other direction at all. Thomas stayed still and Toby's eyes widen.

The mist had disappeared when going across Thomas' body. The tank engine looked up at Toby with a look in his eyes that he already knew what was about to happen.

"I feel **_weird."_**

The groaning of metal and screeching came all too suddenly. Thomas's crew flew out of their engine as Thomas' cab crushed inwards with nothing to show of the reason. His body began to vibrate, so quickly that only blurs were seen of him moving about. His face began to mash up, changing his face whilst he screamed in pain. His paintwork, slowly changing from that blue everyone had known to love, into a shiny silver. His red lining becoming bloodier, and his number one always changing from zero to nine ever so quickly.

His face mangled so much that he it wouldn't even be called a face, for his right eye split in half, flesh taking over the gap the eye had created. His lips weren't even lips with flesh going over them making the top one fatter and fatter with his teeth and tongue not to be seen whilst he screamed in agony.

"GET OUT OF HIM YOU FUCKING SOCIOPATH!!" yelled a voice.

James came onto the loop track with Reginald carrying along behind him and go instead behind Henry's tender. The red engine stopped next to the green engine and Samson could all but stare at them both with wicked face that he was creating.

**_"No. He is mine to keep now."_**

The voice coming from the misshapen mouth sounded like Samson who was draining Thomas' screams. He sounded like he was having the time of his life and not even getting any pain from it.

"Now, now everyone. Let us all calm down."

Everyone looked to see the man everyone thought to not see tonight, come out of Henry's cab and walked right in front of the possessed, vibrating tank engine. His vicar robes shown to everyone that this means he was here to help them all, Wilbert.

Samson growled from out of Thomas' deformed mouth.

"Get out of Thomas' body," said Wilbert, "by the looks of things he strong and you're weak. You should've stayed on that viaduct a little while longer."

He turned to Eagle. "Did he break the barrier?"

"He broke the barrier," replied Eagle.

Wilbert shook his head. "You're not supposed to do that," he said, "that isn't right, you've made yourself powerless now, and by the looks of things, you are still in trying to possess Thomas."

Samson's growl was even louder than before. The left eye that was unharmed had now turned into one of Samson's demon eyes. The nose not going in on itself with sounds of the flesh bumbling making me cringe at the sound.

"One last chance," said Wilbert.

**_"I'll never get out of this body. EVER!!"_**

"Then forgive me then."

Wilbert pulled out the cross from under his robes. And held it up in front of Samson.

He murmured a few words and the exorcism started. With shrieks coming from Samson's voice now, Thomas' metal shell began to creak and groan with it going in and back out of itself. The silver and blue clashing into each other now, the zero then becoming more and more frequent than the other number digits, and finally with a slash of gold and red sparks, Thomas was shot backwards right into Gordon's buffers again.

Whilst Samson just stood there. He opened his eyes. Then he gasped and screamed an awe full sound in horror. As his once old demonic body, was now replaced by Thomas'. The silver paintwork was now in place with bloody red stripes and a number zero on each side of his tanks, red lining bleeding down them.

His face, a mangled form of his, Thomas and the deformed face they've made. I'll let your imagination go wild with what it looks like because it was indescribable.

**_"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BODY??!!"_**

Wilbert sighed. "You were still in the process of possessing Thomas," he explained, still calm as he always was in serious situations. "Because of this, you gave great pain to Thomas and so you were taking too long that you would've been possessing a dead shell of an engine that would never move again."

Thomas' crew rushed to see if their engine was alright, to see if the mangled mess he had disappeared.

The tank engine looked mostly back the way he was before Samson tried to take over his body. His face normal, and his metal shell was fine. The only thing was his paintwork was all scratched from all the bending and crunching Samson was doing to him.

Samson growled viciously again to all the engines.

"Samson, please," said Edward more confidently, "let us help you."

_**"NEVER!!"**_

"Fine," said Wilbert plainly, "I've got no choice but to destroy your soul."

He then pressed the cross to his lips, muttered words that no machine would understand. He threw the cross right at Samson, and with a shriek of terror and pain, a golden glow appeared before the demon. And with another yell that I still remember from that viaduct, he disappeared. The cross fell to the ground, the bright glow gone.

Wilbert picked it up from the ballast and checked all over.

"Is... is he g-gone?" whimpered Percy.

"Not sure Percy," replied Wilbert, "but let's hope so. If does come back, well, I don't know what to do next."

He then turned to Toby. "I guess you got your holy spell given to a local vicar?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Toby, "the vicar of Ffarquhar gave it to me before we left to come here. But it was just the one protection I had for the demon to hit me. Luckily, he was too crazy to think properly."

I then looked over to James and Henry. "How did you arrive?" I asked.

"I came back to the yards just after Thomas, Gordon and Reginald left," replied Henry.

James explained it all to me whilst I refuelled. By then, he told me what he was going to do. Take Wilbert and sort the matter himself.

"I thought you didn't believe in demons?" peeped Percy.

James sighed. "Wilbert did some convincing to help you guys out," he answered, "and by the looks of things, I do believe in them now."

"James suggested when Wilbert return that I'll take him on my cab," continued Henry, "when we came to the nearest set of points to switch tracks to the viaduct, Reginald was there. We both soon rushed after you guys and now here we are!"

"Yes we are," said Reginald, "that was insane!"

"It was."

All the engines, crews and vicar looked to see Thomas slowly waking up. His eyes droopy and the usual light grey face was completely pale.

"After all," the tank engine continued, "who'd have thought that Thomas the tank engine would be challenged by a demon?"

Black blood came out of his mouth in huge chunks and Thomas went back into being unconscious again.

*

It was a while until we all got over that particular night.

Some nights were worse than others, but we would sometimes get nightmares of Samson coming back to haunt us all.

Thomas had the worst of it though, he had to spend an entire fortnight at the works until he was better with his physical state. His mental state took longer though with having nearly a nightmare every single night.

Percy and Toby comforted while he went through this and the tank engine was eventually sent to the Brendam Branch to help Edward, who was also having the worst of it.

But with the help of Wilbert, both of them accepted on what happened a few weeks later and soon back to their old selves again.

Wilbert also helped some of us through time as well. But he eventually would have to return to mainland England and left four weeks after the events which occurred on the Island of Sodor.

Ava didn't get better after Samson's defeat and would remain she was. Peter still had a close eye on her and would try his hardest to help her get better. Reginald left the same time around Wilbert. Shockingly, Gordon even thanked the Euston engine and they left on good terms.

I probably never bring this up again in my life, since it just brings back too many horrible memories. But just remember this, if you ever feel scared or lonely, just know that friends and colleagues will be beside you no matter what happens and that we all take care of each other. As one.

**A/N: I can't believe I did it! Took me a while but ah well. This is probably the longest story in a season to date and hopefully last in this book. Cause I am not doing this again.**

**Well I hope you all enjoyed this story.**

**And for your questions:**

**This was nearly at 9000 words.**

**Yes Samson was turned into Timothy.**

**Yes, Thomas puked black blood out of his mouth.**

**Was I trying to make scary? Maybe. It was more about mystery than horror. But I was trying to give you the scary image of Samson trying to possess Thomas.**

**Ava and Peter's arc won't be continuing on in this book, but in the next book for this big tale!**

**And Samson will return...**

**Thank you all! And I'll see you all later!**


	36. Ep34: The Eight Famous Engines

**~1956~**

When returning from the big station, I would expect a nice sunny evening where I could just talk to the other engines.

But I could name a thousand reasons on why I wasn't surprised to find the three mainline engines, Gordon, Henry and James, all arguing at the sheds.

"What are you boiler aching about now?" I quizzed, as I backed into the shed.

"The Fat Controller has said that eight engines are coming from different regions of British Railways and all of the 'core' North Western engines will have to be here."

"I don't get why seven," grumbled James quietly to himself. "I mean, we've got Duck apart of the railway and not!"

Henry smirked. "Toby," he spoke plainly.

James looked at me. "What about Toby?" he asked, "he is the number seven and he's a tram engine, yeah and he can't even

Gordon rolled his eyes whilst Henry laughed. I turned around on the turntable next to the sheds and soon went into my birth. Ava was at the other end of the mainline, she was to work an all nighter, whilst Peter was held up on the mainland.

So it was just me, and the three big engines. Until the sound of puffing was heard. Suddenly, Reginald came out of nowhere, followed by an LMS Ivatt 2-6-0.

Both came to a rattling stop right in front of the sheds. Henry groaned and Gordon watched with a raised brow.

"Ha! Told you I was faster!" beamed Reginald triumphantly.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up," muttered the Ivatt under his breath.

"Ah Gordon, Henry, James and waddler!"

"Duck," I murmured under my breath.

"It is so good to see you again!" cried Reginald, either ignoring me, or just not listening. "Last time I was here... well let's not mention it shall we."

"Yes," agreed Gordon, "never."

"...Okay, now I want to know!" said the Ivatt.

"Who's this?" asked James.

"This is Leo," replied Reginald, "but don't take any notice of him, he's quite irrelevant."

"Oi!"

Just then, another whistle was heard and a BR standard class four tank engine came into view. Followed by a grimy Southern Q1 who was pulling along a Great Western pannier tank engine.

All three stopped either next to Leo or Reginald.

The BR standard didn't say anything, whilst the Southern Q1 just looked around the sheds, his face looking like he was bored to help. The shunter unfastened the coupling and the pannier engine went around and puffed up next to the Q1. Just then, a jinty and a pug engine came into the yards too, both looking like they've been having hard days of working in their careers.

"What is all this?" I questioned.

"Weren't you even listening to a few minutes ago?" replied James.

"Well..." I said, rethinking over what the three mainline engines had said to me before.

Then the familiar sounds of whistles came with the usually bell, and Thomas, Percy and Toby came into the yards. Edward soon coming in a while later, the last engine to arrive for the announcement.

*

Whistles were heard from all corners of the sheds. Thomas, Percy and Toby now in the engine births too, the British Railway engines were all lined up outside the sheds.

Blasts, peeps and toots and even the bell was heard. I stood at the centre of the sheds, the Fat Controller climbed the ladder on me and stood proud and tall on one of my tanks.

"SILENCE!!" he boomed.

Whistles stopped and to me it felt strange to not hear the bellowing of them bouncing in my smokebox.

"The people of England," he began, "reads us in the books that the reverend Awdry himself writes. But they do not think we're real!"

"Well they're fools," mumbled Henry, "I mean, aren't we on the map!"

"We are," replied Edward, "but they believe that us engines aren't real as well as the stories."

"Well some aren't accurate," whispered Gordon, "I mean, Thomas and Gordon, god, I wish Wilbert told the real story."

"Hmm-mhm."

The three railway engines decided to subside as the Fat Controller who had a raised brow, glared at them. He then carried on back with his speech.

"So," he continued, "with much consideration from me and the approval of my father, Sir Topham Hatt, I'll be taking eight, core engines to England."

"Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!!" The engines cheered and whistled. The Fat Controller held his ears.

"SILENCE!" he yelled.

"Beg pardon sir," I began, "but where will we be going?"

"A roundhouse in the centre of England," replied the Fat Controller, "it's called Leicester Midland, control say we can use some of the spacing there, where tourist can visit and look at us. Maybe even do demonstrations!"

The engines mumbled in approvement.

"For the next three days, you will teach these engines who have kindly came to help, our ways of doing things whilst we are away."

"I was forced to do it."

"Shush Walter, we're guests!"

Edward chuckled slightly.

We were introduced to the engines that were going to be our temporary replacements. I had the pannier tank engine, her name was Lina, she seemed a decent sort enough.

I wasn't surprised that Thomas and that Jinty fellow were partnered up. Neither Percy with Pug.

The next day, we all began to teach the busting engines our ways. Since Annie and Clarabel were going to England too, Thomas and Jinty practised with other coaches. Both went to the coach shed at the big station to collect them.

"Y'know," said Jinty, as he shunted some coaches together. "That roundhouse is where I lived!"

"Is it now?" smirked Thomas, as he sizzled on the points. "I guess I'll be saying 'I know one of your mates who lives here!'"

Jinty chuckled. "Pug does too," he replied, "but he won't be needed there soon."

"Oh, why's that?"

"Another engine is taking his place," replied Jinty.

"What class?"

Jinty looked at Thomas worriedly. "It came two days before we left," he continued, "and it looks like nothing we've seen before."

"Is it like one of those weird high pressured steam locomotives?" asked Thomas.

Jinty laughed. "I don't know whether to find that funny or insulting!" he said.

Thomas smiled proudly. This engine, was his type of audience. Once Jinty was coupled up to the coaches, both engines set off down the mainline back to the branch line.

"Say," said Jinty, "when Sir Hatt said that you were in books, what are they about?"

Thomas grinned a toothy grin. "Well," he said with the click of the tongue, "I can tell you some, but they won't be like the ones in the books, only the ones I was there."

"Oh go on then," replied Jinty gingerly.

Thomas then began his tale of when he manages to get his branch line and both wouldn't stop talking till the end of the day.

*

Thomas was still going on two days later. His ego was boosted tones, and was more cocky than ever! Jinty was actually getting tired of him talking about his stories, and was more annoyed by Thomas starting to get vain.

"I'm a really splendid engine," boasted Thomas one morning to Jinty. Who had just reached the top station with a fully loaded passenger train. Thomas was on the other track, he had waited until he returned with the train and was quite impressed, not with Jinty, but his own teaching.

"I once had a race with this red bus called Bertie," Thomas carried on, "I whooshed through that tunnel and stopped an inch from the buffers."

That was when Thomas made his mistake. The tank engine didn't had a control lever back then and so his driver was the actual one to stop him. Thomas had forgotten this and when his crew were out of his cab, Thomas moved forwards quickly.

"Just like this!" he cried.

There was an almighty crash! A groaning of metal and Thomas squealed.

Nobody was hurt, well apart from Thomas. The little blue tank engine had rammed himself right into some metal buffers bending them and Thomas' front buffer beam in the process.

It isn't exactly painful to have something be bent, but it does ache, a lot. Thomas seethed, whilst Jinty found it hilarious.

"Oh dear Thomas!" he laughed, "was that exactly what happened? Or did just decided to crash into some buffers for the sake of it!"

"Shut up!" groaned Thomas, "it's not funny!"

Workmen came to the scene and with the help of Jinty, Thomas was pulled out of wrecked buffers.

*

"Thomas has been sent to the repairs!" repeated Edward.

"Yes," replied Jinty, "I'm afraid he got a bit too boastful for his own health."

"He sometimes gets too vain," sighed Edward, "he probably understands his mistake. He always does, he ain't as stubborn as some engines."

James grumbled past the two engines with fully loaded goods train. The two watched him go over the bridge that goes over Knapford Harbour and disappear around the bend.

Jinty took a deep breath and sighed. "We've got similar engines back at home," he said, "either hating goods trains, or passenger services."

Edward chuckled. "Hating passenger services?" he said amused, "that I've never heard before!"

Jinty smiled warmly. "Yeah," he replied, "but by the looks of things, you've been around longer than I have. Lot more rivets I see."

"Yes," chuckled Edward, "I've been around since the final years of the 19th century. I was originally a Furness Railway K2."

"A large eagle," said Jinty, looking stunned by what the blue engine had said. "Woah, you look so... different! Plus I've never met a K2 before."

Edward laughed. "I was rebuilt in 1952," he explained, "too many warn parts that kept being replaced and so the Fa-excuse me, Sir Topham Hatt decided to redesign me into something best fitting for working along my branch line."

"That's pretty cool," said Jinty, "oh! I am also sorry about your class members too."

"Thank you," replied Edward, "it was a hard time as it was with the Great Depression."

*

"We're Great Western Lina! You shouldn't-"

"Be doing it that way," groaned the pannier engine crossly, "I know, I know, I know."

I huffed annoyed with Lina. I was trying to teach her the ways of the Great Western and slight tint of North Western. But she kept in doing her own thing like I was brick wall to her! I was beginning to lose patience with her.

"You can't just do your work when you're in foreign territory," I continued, "let others teach you so you can be better when working here."

"Oh," said Lina, "then why are you saying things about the Great Western way when this use to be the North Western Railway?"

I was about to blow my safety valve, when the foreman came walking up to us, looking slightly stressed out.

"No.1 has collided into some buffers," he informed, "he's gone to the works to mended as quickly as possible, but if they can't repair him in time you No.5741, you'll have to take the coaches instead of No.1."

He walked back to his office, whilst a let out a groan. Great! One of the most well known engines out of our fleet was now in the works being repaired!

Lina smiled, noticing my face looked like it was giving up on life. Which I pretty much was now one of the 'core eight engines' were now out of operation, and my temporary replacement wasn't listening to me.

"Um... sorry," said Lina awkwardly, "maybe if we could, Y'know, start over and teach me how you run the yard?"

I smiled gratefully, and we went back to work with small smiles plastered on our faces.

*

The Fat Controller stood on the platform impatiently. It was almost time to leave, Gordon, James and Henry were all lined up along one section of track whilst I had shunted Percy and Toby - who were on flatbeds - behind Edward.

All us were ready and waiting at Vicarstown, the only engine that wasn't there was Thomas with Annie and Clarabel.

"Well this is pathetic," grunted Henry, "he decides to just kill the entire plans doesn't he?"

"It wasn't completely Thomas' fault," Percy defended.

"Percy, it was completely Thomas' fault," said James, "his control lever was switch so he could move by himself, he decided to give that Jinty fellow an example of one of his excellent stories but ended with a bent buffer beam and some wrecked buffers."

"Can we not argue about this?" sighed Toby, "this is not going to help solve the problem."

"It will solve one problem Toby," replied Gordon.

"What's that?"

"We all needed to let off some steam with all the stress with Thomas not being able to come."

"...I actually agree with you there," said Henry.

"Me too," added James.

Toby sighed. "It'll only make us angrier though when we get there though," replied Toby crossly, "we all want to have a great time there don't we hmph?"

No reply came. The tram engine had a glint in his eyes of knowing that he was winning the small fight.

"I thought so," said Toby.

"...Still Thomas' fault though."

"Oh give a rest James!" I scolded.

"Lord give me mercy," Edward groaned.

Suddenly, a peep of the whistle was heard, and Thomas the Tank Engine appeared from the distance with Annie and Clarabel and rattled quickly into the station.

"Oh thank goodness you're still here," he cried as he came to a gentle stop.

"I hope we're not too late, cause it's just after eight," twittered Annie and Clarabel to each other.

"Thomas, I am most displeased with you," said the Fat Controller sternly, "you nearly upset my arrangements."

"Yes sir, sorry sir," apologised Thomas, as he looked at his buffers.

Sir Topham Hatt then came to see his son. "It's best if we leave now," he said, leaning on his walking stick. "We have a clear line now."

The Fat Controller nodded. "Go and fetch Henrietta," he ordered to Thomas, "couple her up to Clarabel and bring her back to the station as quickly as possible. I was planning to have you at the front but I guess you should be last with you being late."

Abashed, Thomas went off to do as he was told. As Thomas soon returned to the station, the signal went up for green and Gordon began to lead the cavalry away.

"Look our midlands!" he cried, "here I come!"

"Don't you mean we?" asked James, annoyed by that remark.

"Well the roundhouse is apart of the London Midland region so a LNER engine is-"

"LNER this, LNER that," interrupted Henry rudely, "when will we ever stop hearing about them!"

Gordon steam pressure went up and it was lucky for the two heads of the Hatt family to not hear Gordon barking at the two other tender engines as they headed towards the rolling bridge.

It was soon time for Edward, Percy, Toby and I to leave behind Henry. I pumped my pistons and with a great push, Edward and I managed to heave the two small, but eager engines out of the station. Thomas soon followed and we all went over the Vicarstown rolling bridge, prideful and grand. With our newly gleaming coats sparkling in the sun.

Whilst in Henrietta, the Fat Controller looked down at the title he gave to us engines in his worksheet.

'The Core Eight Engines.'

He thought for a split second, knowing it didn't sound right. Staring at the title, he got an idea.

He crossed out the 'core'. And wrote something different, he looked over and over and eventually smiled.

'Splendid,' he thought to himself and went to the other seats in Henrietta to greet the rest of his family.

The worksheet remained on the desk though, with the title standing out more than ever.

'The Eight Famous Engines'


	37. Ep35: Soaring Down The Tracks

**~1956~**

"Stop it you two! You could cause an accident!"

"Nah nah ni nah naah!!" giggled Ben, as he rushed over the points just ahead of the BR standard with some empty China clay trucks.

The BR standard sighed, it had only been four days since us eight engines had went to England. But for the visitor, it felt like years!

He was given the task of running Edward' branch line, he thought it to be easy, but he reckoned without Bill and Ben.

The China clay twins had come to Sodor just after being built in 1948. They were nice, innocent engines, but they could be naughty and cause tricks on other engines. Edward was the only one to keep them in order at the time, and sadly it showed.

When the blue engine wasn't around, they were try all sorts of things, and they were having a blast.

"Four days without getting scolded by old Edward!" they chanted, "it's a dream come true!"

The BR standard, whose name was Darwin, was frustrated and tired of the twin's mischief. Today, Bill and Ben had gave him too many trucks, then they gave him the fright of his life with pretending to shunt some trucks off the key. And then... well, you know what happened now.

"I'm sick of you guys!" grumbled Darwin.

"Oh come now Darwin," chuckled Bill, who was in one of the sidings at the key. "Y'know you love us!"

Darwin harrumphed and puffed off back down the line with his goods.

He reached Wellsworth and began to shunt the trucks into place. He then heard an engine's whistle and coming over the points into the yards, was Eagle the Midland Engine.

"Ah the Soaring Eagle!" grinned Darwin, "thank goodness I can talk to someone normal on this line."

"I've told you just call me Eagle," chuckled the midland engine, "and what's this about normal on this line?"

"It's those little devils," growled Darwin, "they've been a pain in the bunker for all the time I've been working this line!"

"Edward is the only engine to keep them order," replied Eagle.

"I've seen," Darwin agreed, "and I expected to have a peaceful time here instead of the hustle and bustle of the city of Birmingham."

"Hmmm," pondered Eagle, "tell you what, you and I could switch lines for a time?"

Darwin perked up. "Would you actually?"

"Of course!" smiled the Midland engine, "I've known Bill and Ben just as well as Edward. It'll be easier to control them when I'm around."

Darwin smiled brightly. "Oh thank you Eagle!" he said gratefully, "do you want to start now?"

"Well certainly," chuckled Eagle, "just take my train to Kellsthorpe Road, and ask for my jobs there, and don't worry, I pretty much do the same thing as Edward."

Both crews agreed as well and Darwin took Eagle's return train back to Kellsthorpe Road.

Eagle took a deep breath. "Alright," he breathed out, "let's see how much Edward would appreciate with me on his branch."

The Stationmaster was surprised to find Eagle replace Darwin, but agreed nonetheless. He gave the timetable to his driver, who took control of Eagle. The midland engine collected the coaches and took them down the line, he soon reached Brendam station.

He left the passenger coaches, and went to find some trucks.

That was when Eagle found Bill and Ben, shunting some empty clay trucks into position. The midland engine came up to the pair with a stern look on his face.

Bill and Ben looked over to see him coming over.

"Oh bother," groaned Bill, "it's that loaner engine that Sir Topham Hatt doesn't bother fully buying!"

"Apparently Sir Topham Hatt is good friends with the owner," replied Ben, "so I don't think he wants to-"

"Shut up Ben," Bill all but hissed.

"Hello, Bill. Hello Ben."

The twins jumped and looked to see Eagle coming to a silent stop a few tracks away from them.

"Uhm... hello Soaring."

"Excuse me?"

"Hello Soaring!" Ben repeated from his brother's earlier response. "I mean, that is part of your name right?"

Eagle only rolled his eyes. "Now listen you two," he said, "I'm in charge of the branch line until Edward returns, so I don't want any tricks coming from both of you, okay?"

Bill and Ben glanced at each other, with solemn looks.

"OKAY?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," mumbled Bill, "we get you."

"Good," said Eagle, feeling a little proud in the smokebox with how obliging the tricksy twins were being. "And let's keep it that way."

He puffed off to find his trucks. He soon left with them, Ben watched him leave and returned to his brother.

"Who does he think he is?" he complained to Bill, "coming here and ordering us about? Thinking we're his pets!"

"I know right?" grumbled Bill. He paused for a second, then whistled in delight. "I've got it!"

"Got what?" asked Ben, "come on then Bill, I want to know!"

"Alright, alright!" Bill said crossly, "stop talking so I can tell you."

Ben mumbled under his breath a bit, and the other twin began to tell him the plan. Once finished, Ben was trying hard not to giggle.

"That could work," he smirked.

"I know it will," replied Bill smugly.

*

The next morning, Eagle returned to the docks. He was to pick up some trucks and take them back to Wellsworth. But when he went to the siding, he was surprised and annoyed that some of his trucks weren't on the train.

"BILL! BEN!" he cried out.

"Yes Soaring?"

This time it was Eagle to jump when one of the twins suddenly appeared.

"Where are my trucks?" he demanded, snapping back from his shock.

The China clay twin, who was Ben, looked over at the train with a puzzled look. "They're right there Soaring," he replied.

Eagle gritted his teeth. "Don't play silly," he snapped, "now where are the China clay trucks?"

Ben stared at the train. "Well," he began, "I believe that Bill is still taking his time at the clay pits."

"T-Taking his time!" said Eagle, almost squealing from the anger building within his boiler.

And before he could say anything, Ben quickly excused himself to shunt some more trucks.

It was ten minutes until Bill arrived. "S-Sorry!" he panted, "a few delays at the clay pits!"

Eagle fumed. "Don't you dare out your excuses on me!" he snapped, "what do you think you're doing? Playing tricks like this!"

Bill groaned. "Whatever," he said, "you wouldn't understanding, with all that wind going into your smokebox you'd probably not hear anything!"

Eagle went red in the face, almost matching his paintwork. But before he could say anything, his driver patted him on the side of the cab.

"Come on old boy," he said, "we don't want to be more late than we are already."

Eagle looked to his driver, than at Bill, then back again. He then began to reverse, eyes fixated on the China clay twin, who shunted the trucks at the front of the train.

As Eagle left, Ben came up to his twin, chuckling. "That went well," he said.

"Not our best," said Bill, "but if we keep on doing this, we'll be able to show who's to be ordered about and who not to be."

They both left, laughing hard.

*

Eagle stormed into Wellsworth yard, grumbling about the twins. He had luckily managed to make up most of the time, but was still a little late.

Walter, the Southern Q1 was waiting at the junction. He stared at Eagle as the midland engine came into the station.

"Sorry I'm late," said Eagle apologetically.

Walter murmured an alright, not daring to show anything of annoyance or pity.

"It's those tank engine twins," continued Eagle, "they're troublesome they are, don't know how our Edward manages it."

Walter sniffed. "Sounds pleasant," he replied, "if I were you, I would pay them back."

Eagle looked startled by the suggestion. "Pay them back?" he repeated, "like, trick them like they've done to me?"

"Yes," sighed Walter, "now please give me my trucks."

"Oh, I apologise!"

*

The next day, Bill was waiting at the key side, it was his turn to do Ben's role and vice versa. He eagerly waited as the midland engine came puffing in.

"Sorry I'm late!" he cried as he came to a stop. His crew getting out of his cab, looking like they were in a hurry. "Junction was playing up!"

Bill looked confused. "What on earth are you talking about?" he asked, "you're right on time!"

"I am not," scowled Eagle, "I'm an hour late! It's eleven O' clock, I was supposed to arrive here at ten!"

Bill stared at Eagle, then began to think hard. Eleven? No it can't be. 'But then again,' he thought, 'I sometimes get confused with time not gonna lie.'

"Well?" said Eagle, "are my trucks here?"

Bill opened his mouth to speak. Then gasped, Ben must of got the time wrong as well. "Excuse me," chuckled Bill nervously, and he dashed off back to the clay pits. Unbeknownst to the China clay twin, Eagle had a sly smile on his face.

Ben was finishing up the trucks as slowly as he could. When Bill came whistling in. His brother was surprised, Bill wasn't supposed to come back in under an hour.

"What's with you?" he asked as Bill came to a panting stop.

"The time is wrong!" cried Bill, "you were suppose to go to the docks an hour ago!"

"What time is it?" asked Ben.

"Last time I checked it was eleven o' clock!"

Ben looked dumbfounded. "Oh bother!" he cried and rushed off with the trucks.

"Oh oh oh oh!" they cried. But Ben took no notice.

Eagle waited patiently in the yards, when Ben came panting in.

"Well done Ben!" grinned Eagle, "you've arrived just in time!"

"Right on time?" gasped Ben, "but I'm an hour late!"

"Look at the clock," replied Eagle.

Ben did and was flabbergasted. "It had just struck ten o' clock."

"Yeah, you are a bit late," smirked Eagle, "but if you hurry up, I can leave and make up for lost time!"

Ben finally found the words that were stuck to his throat. "You-you tricked me!"

"No I didn't," scoffed Eagle, with a light chuckle. "It was your brother who tricked you. I tricked him!"

"W-W-W-"

"Now please shunt my trucks on to my train and get on with our lives."

Ben did just that, and Eagle puffed away feeling very proud of himself.

The next morning, Bill and Ben played mood tricks and that stayed the way for the entire time he spent on the branch line.

But surprisingly, he didn't order them about either. All three had made value lessons.

Eagle, not to boss around two troublesome twins.

And Bill and Ben not to play tricks on Eagle. Well not as much as others at least...


	38. Ep36: Together In Electric Dreams

**A/N: Sorry guys! This was finished a lot later than I hoped it would be. But it's done now, and I'm hoping to get the next episodes done until the new year begins.**

**~1956~**

The railway had gone through many changes in its years. But the most bizarre change was electricity. Some railways were getting ahead of their time, and began using this new source of energy before I was even built! The North Western Railway decided to test this on their own railway in 1922. The Peel Godred branch line was completed in 1923 and was soon putting these weird telephone-looking wires above the track.

Not long after that, the first electric engine arrived. His name was Nelson, and was one of the biggest electrics around. With having a 4-6-4 wheel configuration. He and his brother, weren't given a class at the time before 1945. But a year after he arrived, it had been proved that he couldn't be able to manage the work alone in the branch, and the other engines were either too small or too busy to help.

Ross and Ellie arrived in 1923. And with the help of them both, the branch line began to run efficiently. None of them really got into adventures, mainly the usual passenger complaints or the Culdee Fell engines having the occasional repairs of either the lines or engines.

But when the eight core engines went to the mainland, Nelson was annoyed and Ross was beyond furious.

"How dare the Fat Controller leaves us!" exclaimed Ross, one morning after the evening when the mainland engines arrived. "We've been working trains on this island for decades and now we are pushed aside for some steam kettles to go to England without us! Even that feather engine is going and he hasn't been here for five years!"

"I know," grumbled Nelson, "we've worked just as hard, we should get a break every now and then too."

Ellie felt the two electric engines were being quite embarrassing. "Fools," she said quietly, "the only reason why they're going is that those books that the reverend had written has made them an icon for British Railways. We've barely been heard of before and besides."

She paused, thinking wisely over her thoughts. "We are needed here, we are different to others with our electric, and steam engines could not understand how we work here anyways!"

Nelson looked at Ellie. "To be fair you've got a point," he said.

"WHAT?"

"Oh come now brother," sighed Ellie, as Ross seethed with fury, feeling like he had been betrayed by Nelson.

"Don't you dare say that," fumed Ross, and rumbled away.

*

British Railways didn't really care about the appearance when the North Western Railway became a region. So they didn't bother having the engines all repainted into BR black or green, this also applied to the electric engines who had different coats of paint. Nelson had a rich ruby red with white streaks coming from the middle with the words N.W.R. painting on each side. Ross had his paint as a dark navy blue. This his him within the darkness, which he secretly liked. Ellie, had a beautiful green coat with white lining similar to Nelson's lining.

This was mainly inspired by Emily the Emerald Engine's coat of paint, which she still wore the SM livery after being sold to a private owner. This caught the attention of a pannier tank engine when she first met Ellie.

The pannier engine glanced at Ellie's coat and found in quite attractive. One day, the engine came into the yards to find Ellie resting in one of the sidings.

"Green really suits you," said the pannier, coming to holt with the wagons grumbling behind.

Ellie looked up. "It does?"

"Oh yes," continued the pannier engine, "that emerald green really makes you stand out from the rest of the fleet of engines here."

"Huh… I guess it does," said Ellie, inspecting her paint.

"Oh! Where are my manners!" cried the pannier, "my name is Lina. I'm the engine that's working on Montague's jobs until he returns with the other engines."

"I figured that!" chuckled the green electric, "I'm Ellie, and it's a pleasure to meet you!"

The two of them managed to get into a good conversation, Lina being very talkable and asking a lot of questions.

After the meeting, Lina was keen to talk to Ellie again. And soon enough, when Lina was planned to bring a train to the station, Ellie always tried to get her timetable to fit the same time Lina would arrive so they could chat.

Ross again, didn't take a liken to this. "I don't know why you are getting along with an engine you would barely see again after the others return!" he said, "sis, you've got to admit that it is silly to make friends with someone that would only leave so quickly!"

"Rubbish," scoffed Ellie, "I can make friends whenever I want to thank you very much."

Ross huffed. Silence fell in the sheds, until the navy blue electric engine spoke again. "I still don't know why we aren't-"

"Going to the mainland," finished Nelson with a groan, "we get it Ross, you're still upset!"

"You know," Ellie sighed, "that the steam engines get into more adventures than us, and that's because they are… more careless than us. I mean, look at James' track record with how many incidents he's been in."

"Agreed," said Nelson, "you should be really grateful to be apart of a line that is the safest on the entire region."

Ross rolled his eyes. "I think that Lina has been on more adventures than me-"

"Oh please Ross," begged Ellie, "stop moaning on about Lina and books! Work is more important than fame and adventures!"

Nelson murmured in agreement. Ross sneered and went to sleep.

*

The morning wasn't the usual with bright blue skies beaming down to the island that day. If instead brought a thick fog which covered the entire southern part of the island.

"It's said to be like this all day," said the drivers, "so we best be careful."

Ross was tasked with taking the goods trains along the line, whilst Ellie helped with shunting work and Nelson pulled passenger services.

Ross didn't mind what work he did, but he did mind trucks and coaches being a nuisance whilst he worked.

The trucks figured from how Ross was going around the yards and branch line, that his temper was at a thin line today. The trucks grew easily bored on Peel Godred branch, and wanted to have some fun.

"Oh look! Here's Ross!" called one, as Ross entered the yard. "I wonder what he will be doing today?"

"Probably snapped his teeth," replied another, "he looks so angry that he'd be throwing a temper tantrum like a lil' toddler!"

All the trucks laughed, Ross banged them hard. "Shut up!" he snapped.

But when he shape was taken by the fog, the trucks would begin again. Talking and making jokes behind Ross' back.

It was night time when Ross had to take his last train back to Killdane. The fog had made the night look eary, and secretly to Ross, a little frightening. He likes travelling in the dark he doesn't hide that, but when things get… spooky, he would try to not show his shivering.

"Don't worry," he murmured to himself, "everything is fine, there's no such thing as ghosts or phantoms or demons."

He picked up his last train, and rolled off down the line. He had to hurry since Nelson would be taking the last train to Peel Godred and back and had a guaranteed-connection with Reginald. He had to make sure he could clear the line at Abbey Station so Nelson could get through.

He was so focused on getting the train to Abbey station as quickly as possible that he jumped violently when he heard crows screeching wildly from a small set of trees nearby.

The trucks laughed hard. "Ross is scared folks!" cried one of the trucks, and the rest all laughed.

"Shut it!" yelled Ross, his temper rising quickly.

"Looks like Ross likes the dark, but I guess he doesn't like it when he's alone."

"Well he's not alone he's with us you stupid wagon!"

"Ross is just a scaredy engine."

"Wimp, wimp, wimpy wimp!"

"He doesn't have an undercarriage whatsoever!"

Ross' eyes flickered and his pupils became dots, staring wide-eyed straight ahead. Something had snapped.

"Not got the undercarriage eh?" he barely spoke loudly enough for the trucks to hear him. But he didn't care. "Let's see if you've got them!"

He pounced forward, the trucks yelped in surprise, and Ross began to pick up speed down the line.

The trucks were shocked, Ross tore down the line and went around a corner and almost rocked the trucks right off the rails. Screeching their brakes, the trucks began to hold back frantically, trying to slow the train down. But Ross wasn't having it.

Meanwhile, Nelson was at the junction with his final train to go up the line. He then heard yells and screams from up the line and the thundering of a train going along the rails.

And out of fog, came Ross. He raced past Nelson and went into the yard. Ross tried to brake, but he was going too fast, his wheels were locked and he headed towards the siding right next to the mainline. Ellie, who was resting in a nearby siding, watched in horror, as Ross skidded on the rails and crashed into some flatbeds in the siding and went toppling over. With his trucks colliding and going into a heap, whilst the flatbeds' load of black pipes all leaped into the air and landed on the nearest mainline track.

"Ouch!" soothed Ross to himself, "that hurt!"

"Well I'm sure it did," said Ellie, sighing at the scene.

"What were you thinking?" cried Nelson from the platform, "you could've hit me!"

"Teaching trucks manners," replied Ross moodily.

"Certainly not like that," said Ellie quietly, "look at the state you've made in the yards."

"I'm on my side Ellie," replied Ross, "can't really see properly."

Suddenly, a whistle was heard. Then Lina came slowly into the yard with her usual night run.

"Oh my gosh," she said as she came to a holt, her trucks being uncoupled from behind almost instantly. "Did Ross decided to go rogue and crashed into those flatbeds?"

"Yep," said Ellie, popping the 'p' at the end. "Yes he did."

Then the stationmaster came running up to the scene. "Oh no!" he cried, "those pipes are blocking one of the mainline's tracks!"

"And?" asked Ross.

"Reginald will be coming down that line any minute!" exclaimed the stationmaster frantically, "someone's got to warn him!"

"I'll go," chuffed Lina, no hesitation in her voice. "I'm the only one who can go down the mainline anyways."

"Hurry Lina!" called Ellie, as Lina left the yard. "Reginald is a fast locomotive!"

"The patriot class won't be the fastest," mumbled Lina.

Reginald was going fast though. His wheels rumbled along the rails with the coaches' own to hum with him. He was going to slow down slowly. But that wouldn't be the case as he heard the sound which made him leave his phase of imagination.

"PEEEEEP PEEEEEP PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!"

Reginald gasped. That type of whistle was the emergency whistle, meaning he needed to slow down… and fast.

"Brakes driver!" he cried. His driver obliged and Reginald felt his wheels trying to reject the steam from the pistons. He whistled loudly, as he screeched along the line.

Lina then came from out of the fog, whistling back. "Stop Reginald!" she yelled, "you have to stop!!"

Reginald groaned as he tried harder to brake, pain began to rise from his body as he was slowing down. He was soon coming towards the pile of pipes, which looked like they were begging to be hit by Reginald.

The engine from Euston brakes harder and harder. His wheels locked, and he then came to a groaning stop… just in time.

Reginald opened his eyes. "W-W-What happened?" he cried, trying to understand the situation which he saw from the crash and the pipes in front of him.

"Ross is what happened," replied Ellie plainly. Ross only rolled his eyes.

Soon enough, Lina came back and Mickey and Harvey arrived to clear up the mess. Ross was too damaged to go back to work and was sent to Croven's Gate works in embarrassment. Whilst Reginald's passengers were let off and directed to the platform. They didn't like it, but didn't blame the either Nelson or Reginald.

The Euston engine was switched onto the other track and continued on, trying to make up for lost time.

When he finally got to Tidmouth, he was a few minutes late. Most of the passengers were fine with the delays. But one particular passenger came up to Reginald and his crew, looking furious. He had grubby brown hair which tried to be neat, but failed miserably. His eyes just as dark from the circles under his eyes.

In his right hand was a brown briefcase, whilst in the left, was another smaller hand. This belonged to a little girl with blonde her which clashed to her surposted father. Her eyes looked at Reginald in awe whilst the father brought his other hand up, pointing a free finger at the driver.

"I demand to see your chairman!" he exclaimed.

"I'm sorry," replied the driver calmly, "but the chairman of this region of British Railways isn't on the island at the moment."

"Where is he then?"

"In Leicestershire with the core engines for a display they're holding."

"Why didn't you know this already?" asked Reginald.

"Clearly I was away," scoffed the man, "and when I come back I expect to have a normal run to the station with my daughter. But instead I have to hold her tightly whilst a train is braking so suddenly!"

"I do apologise, sir," replied the driver, "but you wouldn't be here at all if we didn't stop for some pipes were blocking the tracks."

"I saw them as we went past," seethed the grubby man, "and the crash, surely people will think this railway is a joke if you keep acting this way."

"Sometimes these things happen sir," shrugged the fireman, "we can't control what happens to every engine."

"Well it doesn't matter," snapped the grubby man, "my organisation has good relations with your superiors, and mark my words, I'll make sure my voice is heard!"

The driver and fireman looked at each other, quite perplexed. The grubby man then looked down at his daughter.

"Come now Nancy," he said, his mood suddenly changing with a kind smile looking down at his offspring.

The little girl looked up at her father, then looked at Reginald. She smiled broadly and waved goodbye to the Euston engine.

Reginald smiled and if he was put in his own control he would've given a kind peep of the whistle in return. But instead gave a "goodbye"!

*

A few days later, the sound of whistles was heard, from the other side of the Vicarstown rolling bridge. Then two big engines, blue and green came thundering over and rushed into the station a minute later.

"Haha!" cried Gordon, "I told you I'd beat you!"

"Pah," scoffed Henry, he came to a stop next to Gordon, red cheeks seen clearly by curious passengers. "You only managed because you were on the inside track for the final stretch."

"Someone's a sore loser." Gordon chuckled and both looked back to see a panting James coming into the station.

"You took your time," joked Henry. Both bigger engines had somehow forgotten their own little argument and were now targeting the red engine himself.

"Can't really get ahead when both of you are blocking both tracks," groaned James, "I still can't believe control allowed you both to run side by side!"

"We have manners James," replied Henry snootily.

Before James could respond, they heard a blast of two whistles and Edward and I came puffing with Toby and Percy on flatbeds between us.

"You three were very careless back there," I said, "you cannot just go racing down lines like that!"

"Come now Duck," James said, "it's only for fun."

"Yes…" I murmured to myself, "fun."

Then out from the last corner to Vicarstown station, came Thomas. He was pulling Annie, Clarabel and Henrietta with Percy and Toby's crew in them, as well as the Hatt and Awdry families.

"What are you all boiler aching about now?" he asked.

"Duck is too strict in rules Thomas," replied James quickly, "can't deal with us getting permission from control to do some little publicity stunt for some of the watchers nearby."

"I didn't even know you were given permission in the first place!"

Whilst that was going on, both Sir Topham Hatt and the Fat Controller stepped out of Henrietta. "Those engines never learn," chuckled Topham.

"Indeed," smiled back the Fat Controller, he then turned to his father with a concerned look. "Are you sure you're alright father?"

Sir Topham Hatt hadn't been well for the best couple of days, but he suddenly just vanished the day before they were going to leave.

"I'm fine Charles," chuckled Topham, "right now I should be more concerned about him."

He pointed one finger over his shoulder, the Fat Controller turned to see the same grubby man from last night walk up to the stout gentleman.

"Sir Charles," he said informally, apparently unlike how he treated Reginald's crew. "I'd like a word with you."

"Mr Gotze," said the Fat Controller, surprised time see him at the station. "What is the matter?"

Gotze then began to tell him what had happened a few nights ago. The Fat Controller nodded.

"I am aware of them," he replied, "and we'll sort out the matter immediately."

"Good," said Mr Gotze, "cause I won't have my daughter clinging on me so not to fall off her seat!"

There was a sudden thud. And both men turned to see Sir Topham Hatt had fallen down to the ground.

"Father!"

They all ran as quickly as possible to the man laying on the ground. All the engines had stopped arguing and were now in shock to see their old controller now on the platform floor.

"Someone call an ambulance!" called a porter.

People stared in shock too.

The engines were immediately put on the driver's control and had no choice but to move to the yards.

The ambulance soon took Sir Topham Hatt to the hospital. Nobody dared to go near the Fat Controller, who was pacing the floors anxiously. A doctor, looking like he hadn't a proper sleep in years came up to the Fat Controller.

"How is he?" asked the Fat Controller, hat in between his hands.

The doctor gave a grimacing look. "I'm afraid that your father is diagnosed with something called epilepsy," he informed. The Fat Controller stared, he knew what that was, and what it meant. His mouth went dry and could only continue to listen to the doctor's words.

"It is when the brain becomes abnormal, causing seizures or sometimes, periods where the patient will experience, unusual behaviour, sensations and even loss of awareness."

"My father, had a seizure?" said the Fat Controller.

"Yes he did," replied the doctor, "and I'm sorry to tell you this."

He gave a more pitying look to the controller. "His case is one of the worst I've seen in my career," he said, "I'm afraid he doesn't have long to live."

*

The railway was quiet for the next few days, everyone was begging for this to be a dream. That Sir Topham Hatt was going to get better and still live on.

But we wrong.

He was sent back to Hatt manner located in Wellsworth. Where he died in his sleep that very night, no breath coming out of his body no more.

The railway was shut down for a day, but work still needed to be done and we knew what Sir Topham would say if we were left in our sheds. So we continued on, like we always do. But we just couldn't accept the death, and would carry the shear weight of sadness and depression in our boilers.

Some of the engines left straight after we returned. But a few still carried on working for a while, Reginald stayed to help with some express work, even taking goods occasionally. Lina and Pug worked some of the smaller yards and helped out with other shunter's such as myself. Even Walter stayed to help with some work.

But when the day came for all of them to leave, it would've been more sadder. Ellie was almost near to tears again when she heard Lina was leaving. But when she saw Lina come to holt at a signal whilst passing through, she had a smile on her face.

Ellie was going to ask what was going on, but Lina spoke first. "I've got some good news," she said, "I am leaving Sodor, but I won't be going to a far away part of the United Kingdom."

Ellie looked at Lina, sadness replaced with confusion. "The shunters at Barrow-In-Furness have be relocated somewhere else," Lina carried on, "and control has permitted Pug and I to replace them!"

Ellie beamed. "Oh I'm so happy for you!" she cried, quite literally with a tear going down her face.

Lina grinned back. "I won't be seeing you as much, but I will come here every so often," she said, "so I'll see you around!"

"See you around!" called Ellie as Lina's signal went green and the pannier engine puffed off.

Ross, who had been repaired looked at Ellie with a raised eyebrow. "So she's going but also not going?"

Ellie laughed. "Pretty much!"

*

Thomas huffed crossly. "That Jinty and Pug definitely changed a few things around here," he mumbled to himself quietly. He pushed some trucks into their proper places in the harbour and puffed back to the station, where passengers would be bustling about, trying to get to their trains.

He soon came into the platform, where his coaches Annie and Clarabel were.

He looked all over the station. He saw old men on benches, looking like they were going to sleep. Young teenagers, anxiously wonder on what to do with their train tickets. But one thing caught Thomas' eye.

A little girl, was staring at him. She was holding the hand of her mother who buying tickets and was continuing to stare at him with awe and wonder with brown eyes sparkling with from their dark colour.

She managed to slip from her mother's hand and walked towards Thomas. The tank engine looked back at her, he wasn't a fan of children, they usually scream, cry and yell loudly when ever he was near one.

He was one of the 'eight famous engines', there were disadvantages to that. But this girl was unusually quiet as she came up to him in a polite manner.

"H-hello," she spoke to Thomas.

The tank engine looked around the station, seeing the mother hadn't noticed her daughter quietly sneaking away from her.

Thomas raised an eyebrow back at the little girl. "Hullo," he replied.

The little girl made a tiny grin. "You are number one right?" she asked.

"Yes I am."

"I've seen you before," she continued, "a lot of people mainly talk about you and your friends!"

"They do?"

"Yeah!" exclaimed the little girl, "and I do say, you have a lovely branch line."

Thomas secretly felt flattered. "Thank you," he said, "what's your name?"

"Oh! My name is Nancy," replied the little girl, "it's a pleasure to meet you number one."

"Number one…" Thomas felt a little stunned when he realised what she called him. This girl didn't say his name but his number instead! Nancy was pleasantly nice, quiet and respectful.

Thomas didn't give a fake smile that time, he gave an actual meaningful grin at Nancy. "It is lovely to meet you Nancy," he said, "and please, call me Thomas."

The little girl beamed brightly.

"NANCY!"

Both engine and girl turned to see Nancy's mother quickly walk up to her own daughter.

"Oh my darling," she said, dropping down to Nancy's level, "don't scare me like that."

"Sorry mama," replied Nancy, looking at the floor a little ashamed.

The mother sighed then looked at Thomas. "Thank you for keeping my daughter safe," she said.

"Um… no problem," replied Thomas, smiling kindly to the mother, who got up and took her daughter's hand into hers.

Nancy obliged and they both walked to the station exit. Nancy looked back and waved goodbye to Thomas.

Thomas smiled and mouthed back a 'goodbye' to her.

His driver then came up to him. "So you're finally warming up to children now eh?" he teased.

Thomas just rolled his eyes and went back to work.


	39. Ep37: Twins

**~1959~**

"The new engine has arrived sir!" called an inspector as he walked into the office.

The Fat Controller looked up from his papers. He smiled brightly, relieved from all the stress he was getting lately. "That is good news," he said, "where did you take them?"

"I ordered him to go to the depot sir," replied the inspector, "so to fuel on water and coal. Is that alright sir?"

"Ah yes, that's splendid!" he beamed. The Fat Controller got up from his chair and walked to the hangers where he picked up his hat, and placed it on his almost-bold head. "I'll go and meet him immediately."

"But I must warn you sir," said the inspector, "you might need to prepare for what you'll see."

"Oh and what's that?"

The inspector gave a thin smile and tapped his finger on the side of his nose. "Wait and see."

The Fat Controller shook his head and left his office, chuckling quietly to himself.

*

It had been three years since the death of Sir Topham Hatt I. Many things had changed then, less steam engines from the mainland were coming and these things called diesels were coming into the stations and yards.

But in 1957, a diesel had came for a trial. But he said terrible things about the three big engines to the trucks and said that I did it. After much investigation and sorting things out, the diesel was sent packing, but left a huge impact on our views on diesels.

I'm afraid to say, that most diesels were rude and threatening to us, and they made our views on them more stronger, we despised them. Seeing them as cowards, oily and devious. Not meant for this world and only brought badness to them.

The entire fleet that worked on the Norramby branch had to be reallocated by order of control, a month after we went to the mainland. So the Fat Controller had to get some new engines to work on the line. He managed to get that Walter folk on, since the Southern region had no interest in bringing him back to his original shed. He also got another engine to do the passenger work and the occasional shunting work at the yards.

Gordon, Henry and James were over-the-moon when they heard the original Vicarstown's pilot left with the original Norramby engines. They pretty much made the other engine a god of some sort.

Lina and Pug were also still around. Shunting carriages and trucks in the yards of Barrow-In-Furness. Sometimes taking trains from there to Sodor.

But most of Sodor hadn't changed, and now here we are, in 1959. The year that would end a decade, and start another. Only this one, we wouldn't be prepared for as we expected...

It was lucky that the Fat Controller was in a good mood that day. Because when he saw the new engine, he was surprised to see he was in perfect condition, but had no number on the side of his cab.

"Hello," said the Fat Controller, "you must be the engine I ordered to arrive."

"Aye sirr," replied the engine, he was from the Caledonian Railway, a Class 812. He spoke in a strong Scottish accent with his face mixed with nervousness and excitement.

"I must ask," said the Fat Controller, "but where is your number No.57646? You should have it on the sides of your cab."

"Och, I didne have 57646!" replied the Scottish engine, "I'm 57647."

The Fat Controller raised an eyebrow. "That's improbable," he said, "I'm certain that control told me I was to get 57646."

"Must've gootten mix within peapers," replied 57647, "ya knoew hoow control ar' these deays."

"Indeed," said the Fat Controller, his brow furrowed suspiciously, "I'm still curious on how you don't have a number though."

"Ach, they might've slipped oaff whilst co'ming 'ere."

The Fat Controller looker unconvinced, numbers were usually painted on up in the Scottish region and them having 'slipped off' wasn't true. But he carried on anyways like he didn't take any note of what the new engine had said. "Do you have a name?"

"Douglas sirr."

"Good," said the Fat Controller, "then I can ask your shedmanager whether you are the right engine!"

"Theair may be soeme problem with that sirr," replied Douglas nervously.

"Why?"

"I only gave meself a name right after I loost my number sirr," Douglas explained, he sounded quite apologetic.

The Fat Controller sighed, this was all very confusing to him. "Fine," he said, "If you're here and 57646 isn't, then I'll have to keep you. Will you work hard if I do?"

"Aye sirr!"

"That's a good engine," the Fat Controller said, "now stay here and we'll replace that BR logo with the number nine an-"

"Pardon my intrudi'n sirr," interrupted Douglas, "but cean I make an request?"

"...Go on."

"I'd like ta have tha number ten please sirr."

The Fat Controller was a bit startled by this bizarre type of request from the Scottish engine. "You do realise that the number nine hasn't been given to any other engine in my fleet," he said, "and why do you want the number ten instead?"

"I'd like ta be tha first engine with two digits sirr," replied Douglas, "and I feel like a intrudor sirr, so I'd prefor it tha' the next engine coupd hav' it."

"Fine! Fine!" said the Fat Controller, hands up in defence, "you shall have the number ten if you want to. But the next engine will have no choice but to be given the number nine."

"Underrstood sirr," grinned Douglas.

The Fat Controller nodded and walked quietly away back to his office. He was more confused than ever.

*

Douglas' request was accepted with a bit of fuse and confusion from the painters and cleaners when they dusted and washed the dirty Scottish engine and gave him the number ten, painting brightly on the sides of his tender.

Douglas was glad to have the wash down. He hadn't had one in months, and the wind blew around his funnel, wrapping itself to it. He looked around the yards, some steam engines were coming out of the yards with goods trains, ready to be taken to the mainland, and industrial buildings and houses laid about in the background.

A peep of the whistle caught Douglas' attention. He saw me arriving into the yards. His number had now been fully dried up and he was waiting for orders. The inspector came down from my cab and walked up to Douglas.

"Number ten," he barked, "Sir Topham Hatt wants you to learn how the North Western region runs a railway. Number eight, Montague here will teach you, and hopefully, won't do it the Great Western way."

I blushed a bright red and we watched as the inspector walked away.

"Well then," I said, "let's get to work."

We began to shunt trucks and coaches. The trucks played tricks at first but after seeing the wrath of a Scottish engine, they thought it would be wise to stop at once.

Douglas didn't mind shunting, much to my relief. He was very hardworking and helped me run the yards and station like clockwork.

"I like it 'ere," he said pleasingly, "Don-I would like ta steay here."

"What were you going to say then?" I asked suspiciously, "you cut away when you were about to say something with Don!"

"Umm-n-n'thang!" replied Douglas quickly, "probably hearing thangs."

I narrowed my eyes. Then blew my whistle to shunt the trucks into the right sidings. Douglas listened to the sound intently.

"Ya came here in 1955 right?"

"That's right," I replied.

"Then why dan't ya hav' the normul Weestern whistle? Apparently, ya not suppose to hav' that sort of whistle unless necessary aroond 'ere."

I chuckled lightly. "I had an accident two years ago," I said, "crashed into a barber's shop. Made a big riffed between us and the public with them being a bit afraid with trains running into their own homes!"

"Aye," agreed Douglas, he cringed at the thought of having his own face smash into a wooden house.

"But anyways," I continued, "after that, I was given a new whistle after my old one broke from the accident. Oh! And I got a North Western numberplate too."

Douglas looked towards my cab where my new number plates were.

"Whut happened to ya ol' ones?" asked Douglas.

"Ones in the shed," I grinned, "the other is on the new wall of the barber's shop!"

Douglas laughed at that. "Me and one of my brothers hav' different pairs of whistles too!" he said, "they were given ta us as a test ta see if yon whistles could help railway staff know a different tone."

"Did it work?"

"Nah," scoffed Douglas, "but they decided to let us keep that whistles anyways! Couldn'e be bothered to replace them in my opinion."

Then the yard foreman arrived. "Number eight, Montague," he said, "Number four Gordon has just arrived with the Wild Nor' Wester. It's time for you to get to the station and shunt the coaches away!"

"Yes sir!" I replied.

"Wild Nor' Wester?" said Douglas.

"A special service which runs from Tidmouth to London," I explained, "Gordon has just arrived with the return train which brings people from the other direction. Really important it is. Thomas likes it especially."

"Ah, ya mean that wee tank engine that is in those famous books?"

"Yes," I said, "he usually picks up a special coach that is on Gordon's return service. He's quite proud of it."

"Aye, speical cooch does make a feel high an' mighty."

I had to excuse myself then and leave Douglas by himself to shunt the coaches.

That night, Douglas spent the night with us. By then, we were chatting like old friends, and I got use to hearing Douglas' strong accent. Still trying to get the hang with what he was saying sometimes.

Henry seemed keen enough. He had been to Glasgow a few years ago and had spoken with a lot of Scottish engines. James and Gordon were obviously not pleased.

"I was expecting an engine from my old railway to come," said Gordon quietly, "not some rough engine with a tug boat whistle."

"Yes indeed," put in James, who secretly just wanted a smaller tender engine than he was. "I can't even understand him with that weird accent of his."

"Och, ya wouldn't be talkin' about me now would you?"

Gordon and James jumped and saw Douglas glaring at them both crossly.

"Yes indeed," grunted Gordon, "you must understand that you feel kind of an... intruder on our island an-"

"Ya thinkin' I'm an intrudor now ay?"

"Yes I-"

"Whose said that ya aren't 'ither? I mean, ya came from London no doubt, and see red engine there sounds like he's from Yorkshire!"

Gordon and James looked at each other, baffled by Douglas response.

"Pah," said Gordon regaining himself, secretly loosing some confidence with Douglas' glare going straight through his smokebox. "We've been here longer than you have, you need to earn our trust if you want to be apart of this railway."

"It's a region Goordon," scoffed Douglas, "but I accept this... trust thingy."

"Good," said Gordon, "let's hope you don't fail then."

I wheeshed steam crossly, about to retort. But Douglas whispered next to me. "Do ya mind if I shunt Gordon's cooches for the day for ya?"

"Well-um..." I pondered, "if you want to do that then... I'm not gonna stop you!"

"Thank ya Duck," grinned Douglas.

Now I know Douglas a lot now, and I know that it took everything in his boiler to not loose himself with what Gordon and James were saying.

The next morning, Douglas shunted Gordon's coaches and helped him out of the station, on time too. The passengers were pleased for good start and Gordon secretly was too.

Douglas took his first train to Wellsworth, where he met Edward both had a quick and polite greeting and chat and Douglas rushes back to the big station with his return goods.

He soon arrived and shunted them all into the places I asked to put and as soon as Gordon came back, he rushed to him.

He was enjoying himself. Gordon gave him the sceptical stare as he puffed past him on the middle track whilst backing out the station. Douglas didn't pay any attention and allowed his driver to couple up him up to the emptying coaches.

Just when he was about to shunt the coaches. He heard the Fat Controller and an inspector on the platform which made his cheeriness drain away.

"What do you mean there's another engine coming?"

"Another engine is coming to the big station sir. And is the exact same class to number ten."

Douglas thought it was best to leave the station quickly and began to shunt the coaches. Mixed feelings spreading across him. Relief and fear took him over, making him forget some things. One of those things he should've remembered at that moment.

He pushed the coaches into the the coach shed and went to the water tower nearby to fill up.

Just then, he heard a whistle, and Thomas then appeared from around the bend and headed across the junction. He tooted a "hullo!" and carried on towards the station.

Douglas began to try to calm himself down. But then a few minutes later, he heard a yell from the station.

"WHHHHY?!!"

Thomas stormed out of the station and looked around the area. Then looked over to Douglas, who stood innocently at the water tower near the station.

"Oi!" he called, "have you seen Duck?"

"No," Douglas replied blankly, "why?"

"My special coach isn't at the station," gritted Thomas, "I bet that Duck wanted to play a trick on me. I swear, when I get him..."

He stormed away, only mumbling and grumbling to himself. Just then, passengers came out of the carriage shed, doors opened at the front one, all of them furious and walking towards the station platform where the Fat Controller and the inspector were.

"Oh sakes!" gasped Douglas, "the special cooch!"

Gordon then came back to the station, hearing Thomas' roar made him intrigued to see what was happening and came alongside Douglas. Taking in what was happening, he looked at the Scottish engine with a neutral glance.

"Thought you could handle it," he all but said.

Then a whistle was heard. Gordon glanced down the mainline, eyes squinting. The whistle sounded like Douglas', only a tone higher.

Then another engine came rushing round the corner, the same class as Douglas with a mere identical face.

He puffed up next to Douglas and Gordon with a curious glance at the station.

"Hey Dougie," he said, "never thought that ya get into this much trooble already!"

Gordon's jaw dropped, Douglas' face went bright red. The Fat Controller then came walking up to the twin engines. With thunder in his steps...

*

"So what you're both saying, is that Douglas was sent here, but this... Donald was sent here because they got it all wrong at the sheds you were once allocated?"

"Aye sirr," replied the Scottish engines in unison.

"Well this is going to be rough," he said, "both of you will have to stay here then!

"Pardon sirr?" asked Douglas.

"You Douglas have been working hard... apart from earlier today."

Douglas blushed. "Sorry sirr," he apologised, "I might've got distracted."

"You certainly did," said the Fat Controller sternly, "but at the meantime, you have a few days here together until I've decided which engine is to stay."

"Seems fair ya me sirr."

"Aye!" agreed Douglas.

The Fat Controller nodded solemnly. "57646, what did you say you name was?"

"Donald sirr."

"Donald and Douglas, I've gotten into a call with your shed master, saying you both are twins, correct."

Donald and Douglas looked at each other, then back at the controller. "Aye sirr."

The Fat Controller said no more. Just bowed his head and walked away.

The twins looked at each other and smiled.

"See ya got "ere fine then!" said Donald.

Douglas chuckled. "Was a wee nerve racking, but got here on time," he said, "the trick worked by the way!"

"I figured," smirked Donald, "let's hope he'll buy that ya came here on porpose."

"Shhh," hushed Douglas, "shouldn't really be sayin' it out lood."

Donald agreed. "He said he'll send one of us back though."

"Then what is ta do?" asked Douglas.

"We'll work just as good as the other," replied his twin, "then he'll hav' to keep us both."

Douglas smiled at the plan and both set to work. The plan would've worked well, but that chat didn't go unheard.

A spiteful brake van, stood alone in a siding. A grin crossing his face. "This will be fun," he said with a mixed accent of posh and cockney.

The spiteful brake van wasn't really the most loyal brake van in the yards. The engines knew this, but Donald and Douglas didn't. At first trains ran smoothly for the both of them.

Then Douglas began to be late. He tried his best, but every time he would take it out, there would always be a problem. The inspectors would be impatiently at the destination where Douglas would be. When he got there, he would be instantly blamed, not even getting a chance to give out a reason.

Douglas was beginning to worry. So was Donald, but even more so as he shunted some coaches into the platform. This time, it was his turn to listen to an inspector talking about his brother, this time with the stationmaster.

"There are plans for one of the engines to be sent back to Scotland," informed the inspector.

"Really?" said the stationmaster, "which one?"

"Number ten I believe," replied the inspector, "number 57646 will stay and be numbered nine"

Donald was mortified. "That spiteful brake van van can't keep his ugly boffers off my twin!" he said to himself. He then looked over to the station pilot's siding, it was right in front of a signal box, and was located in the middle of the station lines before going into the junction. Donald knew he had to go into the siding so to let Henry get to his train.

That was when he had an idea come into his smokebox.

"Lord hav' mercy," he said quietly. He began to back towards the siding. But as he was about to stop, he braked quicker than he usually would, the autumn morning had made the tracks slippery and Donald's wheels locked and the Scottish engine slid right into the siding and his tender smashed right into the side of the signal box.

No one was hurt. But Donald, his crew and the signalman - who had fell from the platform on Donald's tender - were all shaken up.

The signalman was furious. "You stupid engine!" he yelled, "you've jammed the points! Now you'll have to stay there, it'll serve you right for damaging my new signal box!"

The Fat Controller was cross too and went to see the operation.

He had some stern words with Donald. The Scottish engine said he was sorry, but did say what for.

"I was originally going to keep you and send Douglas packing!" he said, "now I'm not so sure."

This made Donald secretly a little better, but didn't show it.

Donald was sent to get his tender mended, whilst the Fat Controller ordered James to help Douglas with the workload.

James was originally doing passenger work, for he had been low on steam for a while, Donald coming in to help made things much easier. so when he heard he would be doing some odd jobs and shunting work. He grumbled endlessly.

A few days after the accident. James was returning to the sheds. His paintwork dirty and grimy. Douglas was talking to Henry.

Gordon was sitting near the end and Peter and Ava on the other.

"Anyone would'a think that Donal' had his accident on porpose! I heard tell," Douglas went on, "aboot an engine an' some tar wagons!"

Henry laughed, even Gordon was heard sniggering in the corner.

"Shut up!" snapped James, "it's not funny!"

He didn't like being recalled by his own accidents.

"Well well well Jeames," said Douglas, "surely it wasn't you. Ya didne say!"

James didn't say and went to the back of the shed in a pout. He wasn't as good the next day either and he still couldn't steam properly.

He soon arrived at the yards to pick up his trucks he needed to take along the mainline. Unfortunately, the spiteful brake van was on the train.

James bumped the trucks hard enough for the break van to feel the force of it too. "Don't waste my time here!" he called to the trucks, "now come on!"

"He's cross," sniggered the break van, "we'll make him crosser still."

The trucks giggled as the van held his breaks on as they went past Thomas' junction. The trucks held back before reaching Crosby station. Their brakes would slip on, and James, still low on steam didn't have the energy to pull them along like he usually would.

By the time they reached Wellsworth, James was exhausted. He was expecting Edward would be there, but only Douglas was quietly dozing on the banker's siding.

James came to a holt right next to him, breathing heavily and red in the face. "Help... me up... th-the hill... please," he panted, "these... trucks... are... playing... their tricks!"

Douglas looked back at the line of trucks, some were given innocent looks whilst others only giggled menacingly.

Douglas winked at James. "We'll show them!" he said confidently.

The red engine was grateful, and Douglas went around the train and buffered up at the back. He then saw the spiteful brake van.

"Ahhh," said Douglas, "so you're the lil' wee pesk that's been taunting Jeames."

"What are you talking about?" scoffed the break van, "I wouldn't dare do that!"

"But ya do it ta me," fumed Douglas.

The break van glared at the Scottish engine and said no more. Both still glaring at each other, James gave the whistle that the line was cleared and with steam being taken into the pistons. Groaning of metal, the snorting engines began to pick the speed up towards Gordon's hill. Unaware of what would happen next...

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" cried James from the front.

"Get movin' you! Get movin' you!" groaned Douglas from behind.

The two engines began to climb the hill. The trucks began to play their trucks again.

"Hold back! Hold back! Hold back!" they screamed.

James and Douglas' momentum was beginning to weaken as the trucks tugged at James. The red engine's wheels slipped on the rails.

"Come on!" he said, "I need more steam!"

The driver looked at the charts. "You're losing steam James!" he yelled.

James groaned and pulled even harder at the trucks. "I can do it!" he said willingly.

His wheels began to slip as the train became heavier and heavier.

"I can't do it! I can't do it!" he cried, "DOUGLAS!!"

"Lay it ya me!" came the response from the Scottish engine.

Douglas wasn't going to stop without a fight. His wheels spun on the rails, sparks coming out at the bottom with some flying from his funnel too.

The trucks felt James' tug lessen, but felt Douglas' shoving grew stronger. They weren't going to back down from a Caledonian.

"COME ON LADS!!" yelled a wagon and they began to tug back even harder.

Both engines felt it, James knew something bad was going to happen. "Douglas! It's best we stop!"

But Douglas didn't stop, he kept pushing and pushing.

"Oooo er!" cried the van. He was begin to be squished between Douglas and the trucks. "I don't like this!"

Trucks laughed and laughed, Douglas grunted and gritted his teeth as he began to use more of his steam.

"Go on! Go on!" pleaded the van, the pain he was receiving was getting more painful every second.

The trucks ignored his pleads and only laughed, as the train began to stick on the hill. Douglas knew this, but wouldn't stop.

"Com' on," he said.

"PLEASE DOUGLAS!!" begged the break van, "YOU'VE PROVEN YOUR POINT!! NOW STOP PUSHING!!! PLEASSE!!"

Just like the trucks, Douglas paid no attention. The groaning and creaking of wood and metal began to be heard, the wailing and screaming was heard next.

"DOUGLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

Wood cracking and caving in. The guard jumped out of the van. The middle of the van crunched in.

Douglas closed his eyes and black liquid poured out of the break van's mouth. The face teared apart and the spiteful brake van fell to pieces.

James braked the train whilst Douglas wheels skidded to a stop on top of the break van's pieces. Silence echoed across the hill...

Mickey and Harvey were brought in to clear the mess, whilst James and his train was taken to Maron by Mickey. Harvey began to clear up the mess. The Fat Controller also arrived to the scene and surveyed the deformed remains of the brake van's face.

"I might've known it would be Douglas," he said.

"Douglas was grand sirr," said Harvey, "the brake van was a spiteful one and Douglas tried his best ta make sure it didn't get the best of him!"

"I see," replied the Fat Controller, even though he didn't. "This is a serious accident Douglas," he informed, "did you purposely try to squish the brake van?"

"No sirr," said Douglas, "but I wouldn't let yon trisky van get tha better of me!"

The Fat Controller nodded. "Winter is coming Douglas," he said, "and your manager will need to know whether his engines will come back to help out for the workload at Christmas. Or needing to arrange a new engine to take over your jobs in Scotland."

"Donal' and I want to stay here though!" burst out Douglas, "this part of British railway is beautaful and Scotland isn't our proper home anymore!"

The Fat Controller sighed. "Douglas," he said, "I thought this might've been the case. You sneaking here with Donald and making act like a mistake."

Douglas' face went pale, realising what he had said had made him and his twin be caught right on the red buffer.

"I want to be fair Douglas," continued the Fat Controller, "but... I don't know. I really don't know."

Douglas' eyes went to look at his buffers in shame. Harvey looked at him sympathetically, whilst the Fat Controller walked thoughtfully away...


	40. Ep38: Deputation

It was a few weeks later after the accident with on Gordon's hill. Nobody took much notice of it. Accidents happened a lot on railways. Only accidents with passenger trains get most of the attention, which oddly don't occur on our railway.

But soon, Donald returned from the works. He had been given a new coat of paint on his tender. Making him look odd because now his tender was shiny and almost new-looking, whilst himself looked like he had been under the coal shoot for ten minutes.

Gordon, Henry and James found it a little hilarious. But Donald didn't mind.

It was still autumn on the island near the end and beginning of December. The leafs had all disappeared, and frost took its place in the mornings.

We hated the cold, but were glad when their fires would be set alight and they would be warmed up by it.

They were expecting an increase of traffic too, Christmas coming around would mean passengers would try and get to their families and freight work would increase too.

But what we didn't expect was one morning, two weeks after the accident on the hill, the doors of the shed flung open and what we saw was a surprise.

Laying on the ground everywhere, was snow.

Snow droplets still came down from the skies and we all groaned in annoyance.

"This is splendid!" yelled James.

"Snow? At this time?" quizzed Henry.

"Disgraceful," murmured Gordon, annoyed.

I looked outside, surveying the yards. "By the looks of things," I said, "you'll have to put on your snowploughs."

"And why's that?" asked James.

"Because it snows much more harsher after Wellsworth," I told them, "so snow will cover the tracks."

"Poooh," scoffed Henry, "I never need my snowplough, never got stuck in snow and never will."

"Didn't you get trapped at Vicarstown last year though?"

"Shut it Duck!"

"Och, no need ta be rude," said Donald crossly.

"Why should you be in this conversation?" asked James, "you probably don't even know how to plough snow!"

"Actually," Douglas interjected, "Scotland gets a lot of snow. Much more harsher up there than down here I may say."

I looked over to Gordon. "Since Gordon is the leader," I said, making James and Henry glare daggers at me. "What would you say?"

Gordon glanced at me, then back at the Scottish twins. "I suggest," he said, "that we do our jobs, and the twins show how they plough the snow back in their homeland."

Henry and James thought of the idea themselves, and agreed to it. We all set to work after that. Donald and Douglas asked one of the inspectors on their plan. He agreed, and Donald and Douglas began to set their plan into action.

They first found a work's coach, with men with shovels and other tools to dig away ice and snow all huddled inside. They helped fitted two snowploughs in front of the engines. They were so high that they reached the tip of their own noses. Once done, both Donald and Douglas buffered up to the work's coach with them facing away from it each end.

They soon set off, the first two engines to go out that day. I was shunting Henry's coaches into the platform. Both of us were talking about the changes on British Railways and want effects it was making.

"I asked a BR Standard on how those diesels were back at their place," said Henry, "she said they were rude and horrible to them."

"What do they say?" I asked, whilst pulling the coaches past Henry and into the platform.

"Hmmm... I think they like to say that their fate is near and all sorts with them going to the scrapyards," said Henry.

"That sounds improbable," I scoffed, "with so many of us, how are British Railways going to get rid of us?"

"Believe me," replied Henry sadly, "railways have done it before..."

I came to a stop at the end of the platform. A thought then came to me to change the topic. "So have you seen Peter, Ava or Reginald recently?" I asked, "haven't seen them that much since Donald and Douglas have arrived."

"Apparently," said Henry, "Sodor Research has shut down for the winter season with supplies, they're keeping Ava at their headquarters until they need her again. I believe that Peter is needed in the midlands for the next few weeks. He said that an engine has been taken out of service over there for unknown reasons, but he says that he'll return when the engine returns. Reginald... I'm not so sure..."

I sighed, Reginald hadn't been the best engine he's been with. But he was a hard worker and loves to make the railway look good.

Just then, we heard to Scottish whistle. Then coming from behind the station, was Donald at the front, with a work's coach, then Douglas running at the back... tender first.

Henry watched with a puzzled and a bit bemused look as they both puffed off, already ploughing through bits of snow.

"Well they definitely look like they've come from the highlands," Henry jokes. I just smirked at the green engine.

*

Donald and Douglas did splendidly along the mainline. They cleared up the snow with ease, but sometimes they would get stuck and have to pull each other out, get the workmen to dig some away and charge once more.

They soon finished one part of the mainline when reaching Vicarstown. It was still early in the morning, but they saw an engine on the platform with the rush hour train, readying himself to take the way up to Tidmouth.

"We'd better fill up Dougie!" called Donald to his twin, "otherwise we'll get stuck in tha snow!"

"Aye!" agreed Douglas, "I agreed with ya there."

They soon filled up, were checked over and went back up the mainline. Douglas led the way down the line, by then the engine pulling the rush hour train had long gone down the line Donald and Douglas had cleared.

Both carried on back down the line. They soon reached Kellsthorpe Road and soon entered Henry's Forest. Donald and Douglas had seen the scenery of the forest and had come to the conclusion that that part of the line is the worse with snow.

Henry's Forest was only small patch of trees near Kellsthorpe Road. But in 1931, the council were low on wood and decided to plant trees in the woodland to expand. It eventually became Henry's Forest, after Henry mostly helped with bringing the trees there.

Most of the trees were placed around a tall, steep hill which had small little paths for hikers to walk around. But it could easily build up snow and could be dangerous by loudest of sounds making the snow fall down and onto the line, which it hung over. A bend blocked the view of the engines when going past the face of the hill, only a few yards before it. Engines warn each other to be extra careful around this part of the line too, but Donald and Douglas were too busy clearing the line to notice.

"I think Henry was supposed to com' past us anytime soon!" called Douglas, a metallic sound coming from his voice with the snowplough covering his mouth.

"Aye he was!" called back Donald, who also had that metallic sound.

"Let's be careful," said Douglas, has they rounded a bend, "Henry could be-OCH STOP DONAL'!"

"What?"

"STOP!!"

Douglas applied his brakes, but Donald didn't apply his in time and push Douglas forward, right into a gigantic pile of snow in front of him. Douglas went through it a few yards, only to stop, with the rest of his visible face barely seen now. His funnel, dangerously having snow go into it.

"Dougie? Dougie!" called Donald, he only heard muffled sounds with the snow. "Och, I must get him out."

Donald began to pull his stuck twin out of the snow. Douglas eventually came out of the snow, his eyes and brow expressed his frustration all too well.

"What was that for?" exclaimed Douglas to his twin.

"Awe, your welcome with pulling ya out of tha snow!" Donald responded.

"Pooooh," grunted Douglas, "I told ya ta stop! But what did ya doo? Ya blooming push me forward!"

"You pulled me!" snapped Donald.

"Didne."

"Did too."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"PEEEEEEEEEP PEEEEEEEEP!!!!"

The peeping of a whistle echoed across the forest. Donald and Douglas immediately stopped fighting and dashed their glances towards the hill, and saw that nothing had moved. In fact, it looked like it lost snow to them.

"I think Donal'," Douglas began, "that this snow, got down here."

"Ya think?" said Donald sarcastically, still a little angry with his twin.

Douglas ignored this. "But who do ya think that whistle belonged too?"

"It sounded familiar ya me," replied Douglas' driver.

The whistle came again and Donald and Douglas, now fully focused on the whistle figured who it was.

"Goodness! It's Henry!"

It was Henry, he was wedged deep with the snow. He looked like he had tried to push the snow away with how far he had gotten from the beginning of the snow drift. He also had a train of passengers behind him, who leaned out of the window and shouted and waved to the workmen who climbed over or ran round the snow drift.

"Don't fash yourself Henry! We'll get you out in no time!"

They did just that. Some workmen began to dig Henry out of the snow, whilst others began to work on the biggest part of the snow drift, with putting salt on top and watch it melt away. Donald and Douglas also helped, with running back and forward, charging at the snow until their line was free. Soon enough, one line was cleared and Douglas being uncoupled from Donald and the works coach, pulled Henry and his train out of the remaining snow around them.

Soon after, Donald took the train on, and Douglas took the works coach filled with men home with Henry sulking behind.

"Thought ya were able ta take the snow on ya on withoot a snowplough, ay Henry?" joked Douglas, "never mind laddy, we all have first times, even when it wasn't your first time... well I hope."

Henry rolled his eyes and remained silent for the rest of the trip.

*

Donald soon returned to see the visiting engine new scolded severely by an inspector. It was reported that the visiting engine that had took the rush hour train before Donald and Douglas return to Tidmouth was the cause of the snow falling down the hill with him easily going past and Henry didn't. Donald figures that out but was curious about another thing, usually the Fat Controller did this, but today he was nowhere to be seen.

Donald didn't ask anyone about until they all returned that evening. Because of bad winter weather, control had ordered the line to be shut down. The visiting engine managed to leave with a return passenger before Henry could have a chance to talk to him, only glared daggers at him whilst passing him on the mainline with a slow goods.

"It's ridiculous," Henry complained as he entered the sheds, "he gets no punishment and leaves without even saying hello!"

"I don't think he'll very welcomed by you," said James, "you would try and scare him away!"

"Kind of did," replied Henry.

"Oh please," scoffed James with a slight chuckle.

"Oh please, he would only be scared by Henry with how he green he looks," joked Gordon, "it's suppose to be a white Christmas and with greenery about, anyone would think that Henry would be a supernatural force!"

James sniggered whilst Henry seethed silently.

Donald then decided to change the subject. "Has anyone seen the Fat Controller?" he asked, "I haven't seen him today!"

"The only inspectors say that he's gone to the mainline and won't be coming back for a while," I replied.

Percy, who was staying at the sheds, then spoke up. "But, why?" he said, "is because of Donald and Douglas?"

"I don't know," I pondered, "I could be away for anything!"

The Scottish twin engines looked at each other glumly. "If it aboot us though," said Douglas sadly, "he would try and make arrangements to send one of us away."

"It isn't fair," grumbled Gordon, "Donald and Douglas have been a credit to the railway. I don't know why the Fat Controller hasn't decided to keep both yet!"

All of us looked Gordon with raised eyebrows.

"I thought you found them to be 'troublesome'," said Henry.

"Views can change my dear Henry," said Gordon, "Donald and Douglas have proven their worth on the railway, even though they have caused... some mishaps."

Both twins looked at each other, and back at Gordon.

"A lot of nonsense with that special coach and that signal box too!" continued Gordon.

"And that brake van too," added James, "good riddance!"

"They were wonderful in the snow," put in Henry, "it just doesn't seem right, we need to make sure they both stay."

"But... how?" I asked.

All the engines in the shed pondered on the thought, some suggested plans or schemes but they didn't feel right. In the end, they just gave up and went unhappily to sleep.

*

"What you need is a deputation."

"A deputated?" repeated Percy.

"A deputation," Edward corrected.

Percy was helping Donald and Douglas clear the snow along the mainline the next day and had stopped at Edward's station where the blue engine was there himself. The small engine had told him about the problem with Donald and Douglas and Edward was going to let Percy down. After all, Donald and Douglas did help him with the workload last week and they were very kind and hard working.

"A deputation is when you explain to someone what's wrong, it is like a speech, in some way or another."

Percy thought on this, then beamed. "That's perfect!" he said, "I must tell the others, goodbye Edward!"

Percy rushed forward with snowplough at the front.

Edward chuckled as Percy rushed away.

*

Percy soon arrived back at the mainline sheds, sliding to a stop. "Guys! Guys!" he whistled frantically.

Gordon, Henry and I were the only ones there and we saw Percy come a screeching halt.

"Calm down Percy," said Henry, "this isn't a play site."

Percy huffed. "I've got an idea to make sure Donald and Douglas both stay!" he peeped.

"What is it Percy?"

"A deputation!"

"A depuation..." pondered Gordon.

"It's when someone tells another person that something is wrong!" explained Percy.

"I think we know what a despetation is Percy," scoffed Henry.

"But... who's going to do it?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" replied Gordon.

"Percy said, we need to tell someone what's wrong," I said, "so who's going to tell the Fat Controller?"

All four of us sat in silence.

"I believe," said Gordon at last, "that Percy, will be our depourtation."

"M-ME?!" wailed Percy, "but why me?"

"You thought of the plan Percy," said Gordon, "it is only fair that you do it."

"It's easy Percy," added Henry, "just tell the Fat Controller when you next see him."

Percy wanted to persuade them he wasn't the right engine, but it was no use, Gordon and Henry were too stubborn to change their minds.

Percy puff away unhappily. I only gave an annoyed glance at Gordon and Henry.

*

"Hello Percy!"

The small engine made a startling biff to the the trucks behind which flew down the sidings. The Fat Controller looked on after them, returning to gazing at a pressured Percy.

"Oh yes ummm... h-hello sir, how are you s-sir?" squeaked Percy nervously.

"Hello Percy," repeated the Fat Controller, "I'm good thank you. Sorry for being so quick, but have you seen Don-"

"Oh sir, don't be mad at me!"

The Fat Controller stared at Percy. "Mad at you? Why?"

"The other engines, th-they made me a dep-depersation s-sir!!" exclaimed Percy.

The Fat Controller pondered. "Do you mean, deputation Percy?"

"Yes sir," replied the small engine, "it's about Donald and Douglas sir, they have been wonderful engines sir! The others say that you might send one of them away, but please don't sir, they wonderful engines sir, they're very hard working too an-and-"

The Fat Controller laughed, making Percy splutter in his awful speech.

"Don't worry Percy," he said, regaining himself, "I'll see what I can do."

Percy then watched him walk away. "Did I do good?" he asked a nearby truck.

"Ya were terrible," said the truck, "like my mam's tea."

*

We were all in the sheds the next day. Percy was still around, and we were just getting our fires ready. Then the Fat Controller arrived with two inspectors on each side of him.

He went up to the engines. "I had a deputation yesterday," he said. The engines all murmured quietly to each other, the Fat Controller looked over to the twin engines. "I believe," he continued, "that once you've taken your goods train, that you'll be needing a new coat of paint at the works. What would you like?"

The Scottish twin engines glanced at each other and back at the stout gentleman. "Blue sirr," replied Donald.

"Aye," agreed Douglas, "similar to paintwork on tha Caledonian railway."

"Do you mind light blue?" asked the Fat Controller.

"No sirr!"

"That's good to hear," smiled the Fat Controller, "and Donald, you don't mind being given the number nine?"

Donald was a bit surprised. "Och, I would be honoured sirr!"

They both paused with pursed lips.

"Does that mean, we're staying?"

The Fat Controller nodded with beaming smile on his lips. "It means-"

He was immediately cut off my the cheers and whistles from us all.

The Fat Controller held his ears whilst we echoed the sounds across the yards. He then began to walk back to his car.

"Aren't you going to tell them why you were on that trip in the first place?" asked one of the inspectors.

"I think you should," said the other, "after all, you did go and sort things out to the manager at number nine and ten's old shed. Putting your effort in to that should need some recognition."

A sigh came from the Fat Controller lips. "Maybe I will tell them if they ask me," I said, "but right now, I think I'll keep my mouth shut."

He opened the car and got back in, the inspectors followed suit. They rolled quietly away, whilst the engines continued to cheer and whistle.

The twins were here to stay.


	41. Epilogue: Warning

The tracks flowed underneath his wheels. The carriages' own hummed behind him. Gordon didn't mind running at night, he liked the world stopping and rest until the crack of dawn. Now he was guided by the moonlight, his headlamps and lights, flickering from houses from the near distance, which would be his destination.

A BR Standard had broken down at Barrow, and Gordon was asked to take the train she bared. He was the only engine at the station and knew the way that the line took. The big engine didn't mind it, he liked travelling on the mainland, knowing that his rails were limitless and the darkness gave a sense of mystery to him, not knowing where he was and see the embodiment of tall hills roll past him.

Houses begin to slide quickly past him, the tracks reflected their lights. Gordon only focused on where he was heading.

He had been warned about Crewe by some engines on the mainland. They alway say that engines lives were being threatened by that place. Saying it would be a graveyard full of engines in the nearing future.

Gordon was thought it was absolute nonsense when Henry told him.

He saw the station building. In the past, he didn't find it as big as some of the stations he had been too, but now returning to the industrial town, it felt like it stood taller than the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Making him feel littler than Percy, maybe a mouse!

Gordon rumbled into the mouth of the station, where he came to a gentle stop underneath the part of the station where it's roof loomed above. His brakes screeching his wheels to a stop.

Passengers swarmed out of the carriages, all knowing that it was their final stop and would need to get another train or get a bus for the rest of their journey home. Porters quickly collected the luggage from the van that was right behind Gordon. Taking suitcases and other objects Gordon would not even remember their names and place them on to baggage cars.

Gordon waited patiently as he watched his passengers move about under the yellow lights of the platform. A dirty little shunting engine appeared from the darkness. His face barely seen from all the soot he had.

"You can go now mate," he said roughly, "I'm shunting ya train ta'night so be off with ya."

Gordon was a little indignant, but before he could say anything his driver called to him. "Pay no attention to him," he said, "come on now, you can have a rest in the yards until our return trip."

The big engine sighed, and pulled away, leaving his coaches with the dirty shunter.

*

Gordon puffed around the yards, it had been a while since he had traveled to Crewe. He had stopped at the station a couple of times, when he was needed to take a train down here. But he had never turned around or stayed here ever since his overhaul. This meant he had a vague memory of the yards and couldn't remember which lines were to get to the sheds.

He puffed around, looking all over the place. It was dark, snow was still around, glistening under Gordon's lamps. The yard had never felt so dark before... and quiet.

A busy yard such as Crewe has never been so desolate in Gordon's eyes. Even Vicarstown, whose small town with small station, was louder than this. But it was the middle of the night.

The sounds of the wind and Gordon's puffing were the only things the big engine heard. Gordon continued forward, he then came to the end of the yard and was a little surprised by what he saw.

A small little shed was at the very corner of the yards, it had one steel door which looked like no engine could smash through it. The shed wasn't singular though, it's length continued off the rails, looking like it was some kind of goods shed, only that it didn't look like one in Gordon's mind.

He couldn't place it in his mind, but it felt like something he knew was in there...

Curiosity would've made him try and look further into it, when he heard a voice which was all too familiar.

"Gordon?"

Gordon's eyes widened, he puffed backwards down the line to see some sidings which curved until the big engine couldn't see the end.

Right in front of one of those sidings, was an engine Gordon would've never suspected.

"R-Reginald?"

The engine from Euston smirked at the big engine. "Hello Gordon, it's nice to see you again. How long has been?"

"All too long," came the reply. Gordon looked at the once magnificent engine. One of his deflectors had been ripped off and he was missing some coupling rods which were supposed to be attached to his cylinder. His cab was scratched and dented and his tender was gone without a trace. His paintwork was covered in dirt and some chalk covered the right side of his boiler. Rust beginning to show.

Gordon looked back to see the grim face. His look of sheer horror.

"I-I-" he stammered, "I thought you were sent here to be mended, but then when you never came back, we all thought you were reallocated, th-the board said you were reallocated."

Regionals growled. "Of course they would," he sniffed, "They're trying to hide the fact that a perfect steam engine like myself, that could so be easily repaired at Crewe works was going to be sent for scrap."

Gordon's water in his boiler dropped. "I'm-I'm sorry."

It's not your fault," said Reginald, "after all, you could be just like me now, or in a matter of time."

"W-What?" stammered Gordon, "why?"

"Haven't you notice Gordon?" replied Reginald, "I thought you actually would. Those beasts have been roaming around the United Kingdom for a few years now, some even coming to your railway."

Gordon raised a brow. Then realisation dawned upon him. "The diesels," he murmured.

"Exactly," said Reginald, "the board of directors aren't just building diesel shunters anymore Gordon. But they're making Diesel engines that are bigger and better every time they make a new class of diesel. You won't be safe anymore Gordon, no engine will he safe. They'll have no choice but to run."

Gordon stared at Reginald worriedly. "How do you know all of this?" he asked.

"Because I've seen Gordon," replied Reginald, "seen those beasts coming out of the works, being tested out at terminus stations."

There was a long pause. "What's inside that shed over there?" asked Gordon.

Reginald looked over to the desolate shed where Gordon was looking at. "Nobody knows really," he said, "but some say that an engine lays in there, never to see the light of day again, only there to be a test subject."

Gordon glanced carefully at the shed. Reginald meanwhile was watching the dark yard. "It's best if you go," he said, "I'm afraid I won't ever see you again."

"Excuse me?"

"There's no way I'm getting out of this," smiled Reginald, "I'm for scrap only now, no reason to save me."

"There's got to be a way," said Gordon.

"No."

Gordon looked at Reginald sadly. Reginald smiled feebly. Gordon could now see the Euston engine's emotions. Full of fear and sadness.

"I know when my time is up," he said, "and it's now."

Gordon looked down at his buffers in respect. "But you and the others, not yet, you have a chance," Reginald continued, "and make sure of it."

Gordon looked back at Reginald, who was still smiling. "Dark days are coming, my dear friend," he said finally, "changes in the winds I may say."

"Indeed," said Gordon, a single tear went down the big engine's cheek. "Goodbye Reginald."

"Farewell," replied the Euston engine, as Gordon moved off, "and good luck."

Once Gordon was out of site. Reginald smiled and closed his eyes. "Changes in the winds," he chuckled and went to sleep.

Never to be woken again...

**_A/N: I'd like to say thank you all for reading this massive book. But believe me, the sequel will be much bigger._**

**_The next book for this series is already out, and is called:_**

**_ The Railway Series: Salvation Collection_**

**_I'm proud with most of the stories so far and I hope you'll enjoy them more than the previous book. Please have a read of it soon!_**


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